#like. it’s not up to you to finish the job but neither are you free to withdraw from it. you get what I mean?

[cinemastyles99]

THE WRONG BOAT

A girls trip gone wrong (or entirely right…)

Lots of smut, public sex, ffm, voyeurism, p in v sex, oral sex, swinging. (Basically no plot)

—

You and your best friend Vivian had barely dropped your bags at the beachside hotel before she was two margaritas deep and flirting like it was her job.

The vacation was supposed to be relaxing—sun, sand, maybe some harmless eye contact with a hot stranger. But Vivian was a magnet for fun, and by the time you finished your first drink, she was deep in conversation with a silver-haired man who smiled like he had secrets.

“Boat party tomorrow,” he said. “Sunset. Open bar. You two would be… very popular guests.”

You and Vivian exchanged a glance. You should have asked what kind of boat party. But instead, you said yes.

⸻

The boat was sleek—white with polished wood trim and music that pulsed through the deck. Sunset spilled over everything in gold, and everyone seemed just a little too attractive to be real.

That’s when you saw him.

Wavy brown hair. Unbuttoned linen shirt. A body that looked like it knew the ocean. He held two drinks in his hands and danced like the rhythm came from him, not the speakers.

He caught your eye. And smiled.

Then… he turned. Walked toward a woman. She was stunning, barefoot and laughing, and she took the drink from his hand with a kiss on the cheek.

Then she pulled another man into her arms and started kissing him.

You blinked. Hard.

The man—Harry, you would soon learn—didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he looked entertained. He stood off to the side, sipping his drink with a small, amused smile.

You noticed the ring on his left hand.

You also noticed he was still watching you.

He came over like you’d summoned him.

“Rum or tequila?” he asked, offering you a glass. His voice was warm, smooth, like it had been slow-cooked over years of mischief.

“Neither,” you said, smiling. “But I’ll take your name.”

“Harry,” he said, handing you the tequila anyway.

You gave yours in return. And when he said it back, it felt like it mattered.

“Dance with me,” he said.

You hesitated. Then his hand slid to the small of your back, and the answer was obvious.

He pulled you into the music, your bodies falling into rhythm too fast to be innocent. His thigh slipped between yours. His breath was hot against your neck.

But then you saw it again—the ring. The wife.

“Where’s your wife?” you asked.

Harry just grinned.

“Do you know what kind of boat this is?” he asked, voice amused.

“…A party boat?”

He laughed softly. “It’s a swingers boat.”

Your brain stalled.

You looked around—really looked—and saw what you’d missed. Hands between thighs. Mouths where mouths shouldn’t be. A couple kissing someone else. Another one definitely not just “dancing.”

Your cheeks burned. “You could’ve led with that.”

Harry stepped closer. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“And your wife?”

He tilted his head toward her. She was on a lounge cushion below deck, moaning into the mouth of a man who was absolutely not Harry.

“Like I said,” he murmured. “It’s that kind of boat.”

And then he kissed you.

It started soft. Curious. But deepened fast—his hands on your hips, your fingers tangled in his shirt, your mouths tasting like rum and sun.

And you let him.

Because the moment didn’t feel wrong.

It felt free.

⸻

He pressed you against the railing, his hands roaming, mouth trailing kisses down your neck. The cover-up slipped off your shoulders, your bikini barely keeping pace.

“Still with me?” he whispered, voice rough.

You nodded, breathless.

He turned you to face the deck—your front against the railing, your back against his chest—and slid his hand down between your thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

You gasped as his fingers found your clit, circling slowly while his cock pressed hard against your ass. One finger slid inside. Then another. He worked you like he knew your body already.

Eyes were on you. You knew it. But you didn’t care.

“Let go,” he whispered.

And you did—crying out as the orgasm crashed through you, legs trembling, mouth open to the ocean air.

When you turned to face him, he was already pulling his shorts down.

You didn’t wait. You climbed into his lap, hands on his shoulders, and slid down onto him.

It was perfect.

He filled you completely, moving deep and slow as you clung to him. Your bikini top slipped aside, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, and you started to ride him—harder, faster, until you were shaking all over again.

You came a second time, biting his shoulder as you pulsed around him.

He wasn’t far behind—pulling out just in time, his moan thick and broken as he spilled across your stomach, your thighs, his eyes locked with yours the whole time.

You collapsed into him, heart pounding.

“Still mad I didn’t tell you what kind of boat this was?” he asked, breathless.

You laughed against his chest. “I think I was always supposed to end up here.”

⸻

Later, as you laid tangled with Harry on the lounge chair, someone caught your attention.

Vivian.

She was against the railing, laughing breathlessly with a tall woman in a sheer dress. The woman’s hand was up Vivian’s skirt. Her lips were at her throat. And Vivian? She was glowing.

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

Harry followed your gaze. “She’s hot.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve always had a vibe, but…”

“She ever kiss you?”

You shook your head. “Not seriously.”

“Maybe she should.”

Just then, Vivian looked up, locked eyes with you—and winked.

Moments later, she sauntered over, top slightly askew, eyes full of mischief.

“Well damn,” she said. “You two are really leaning into the spirit.”

You laughed. “I could say the same.”

“Got room for one more?”

You blinked. Then smiled. “Yeah. We’ve got room.”

Vivian sat beside you and kissed you—slow, searching, like a truth unspoken. Your lips opened. Your hand found hers. Harry groaned behind you.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re killing me.”

“Let her,” you said, pulling Vivian closer.

The kiss deepened. Her hand cupped your breast. Your fingers tangled in her hair. Then her mouth was on Harry’s, her body pressing against his as you touched yourself, already aching again.

The three of you tangled together, heat rising like the tide.

Vivian came first, under Harry’s mouth and your fingers, moaning into the stars.

Then Harry fucked her while you kissed her and held her hand, whispering how beautiful she was. You touched yourself again, coming as you watched her fall apart.

Finally, the three of you collapsed in a pile of sweat, laughter, and tangled limbs.

Vivian laughed. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

Harry sighed. “You say that like I’m not right here.”

You curled into him, smiling. “So… we coming back next year?”

Vivian grinned. “Next year? I vote we don’t leave.”

[twola]

The Fine Art of Riding

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

AN: This was from my call for ridiculous smuts - dearest @pinescent-and-gingerbread hit me with one I just had to do.

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

The late afternoon sun drips through the canopy above, warm and golden, flickering across the trail ahead as Arthur guides his mare at a slow walk. You’re tucked up in front of him in the saddle, pressed snug against his chest, the back of your thighs straddling his hips. His arms are loosely looped around you, one hand lazily holding the reins, the other resting low on your belly.

“You’re wigglin’ awful much for a quiet ride,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

You shift deliberately. “Maybe your saddle’s just uncomfortable.”

He hums. “Ain’t the saddle that’s the problem—it’s what’s sittin’ in it.”

You grin, twisting a little in his arms. “So now I’m the problem?”

He chuckles dark and low. “You’re a whole damn mess. The kind a man’s lucky to drown in.”

The trail winds deeper into the trees, the shadows growing longer, and his hand doesn’t move from your belly. If anything, it starts to drift, fingers playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“You keep squirming like that,” he says, voice roughening, “and I’m liable to forget where we’re even goin’.”

“Maybe I want you to forget.”

His grip tightens for a heartbeat. Then his free hand leaves the reins and starts hiking the front of your skirt up. You gasp softly as the cool air hits your thighs, and Arthur doesn’t stop there—his hand slides down, slipping under the waistband of your drawers.

His fingers find you soaked, and he groans deep in his chest.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Sittin’ here all sweet and warm, actin’ like you didn’t want this.”

“I do want it,” you breathe, tilting your hips and leaning back on him to give him better access. “Don’t stop.”

Arthur obliges, thick fingers pushing inside you with a slow, practiced slide that makes your whole body jolt forward in the saddle. His other hand steadies you while the horse walks on, oblivious to the depravity happening on its back.

“You hear that?” he rasps, voice right against your ear. “That wet little sound you’re makin’? That’s all for me.”

You groan, hips moving now in a helpless rhythm with the horse’s stride. He matches it, pumping his fingers deeper, grinding his palm against your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, kissing behind your ear. “Ruttin’ against my hand like you ain’t got a care in the goddamn world. Like you want me to ruin you right here.”

“Arthur—fuck—I’m close—”

“I know. I can feel it.” He thrusts his fingers harder. “You gonna come for me right here in the woods, in the saddle, soakin’ my hand like a needy little—”

A sudden snort breaks through the air.

Neither of you notices.

Not until the horse bucks.

The world turns upside down.

You’re weightless for a second, then you hit the dirt hard, your breath knocked clean out of you. Your skirt is tangled up around your hips, drawers twisted, and you lie there stunned, staring up at the sky, your body still burning and trembling with unfinished need.

A groan from the ground nearby. Arthur, flat on his back, curses under his breath.

“You alright?” he croaks, head turning toward you.

You glare at him. “No. I was about to come.”

He lets out a ragged laugh and winces, hand pressed to his side. “Shit. I think I broke my damn spine.”

You prop yourself up slowly, drawing your skirt down halfway, scowling. “Next time you decide to finger me in a moving saddle, maybe check the horse’s opinion first.”

Arthur is quiet for a beat, then mutters, “Think she was jealous.”

You throw a stick at him.

He groans again, then slowly drags himself up onto his hands and knees. But there’s a dark heat in his eyes now—his gaze locked on you, still flushed and messy and spread just enough to tempt him all over again.

“Can I finish the job?” he asks, voice low and rough, his hand moving to cup the thick bulge in his pants. “’Cause now I’m real uncomfortable right now.”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes. Now.”

You tug your drawers down your thighs and get up onto your hands and knees, arching your back, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Don’t make me wait this time.”

He growls like a man unhinged, fumbling with his belt. “Mouth on you,” he mutters, dragging his cock out—thick, hard, flushed red and already leaking. “You got no damn mercy.”

“You’re still talking,” you breathe. “That’s mercy.”

“Smart girl,” he rasps, grabbing your hips. “Let’s see how smart you sound in a minute.”

He thrusts into you with no warning, deep and hard, and you cry out, hands sinking into the dirt as he immediately sets a brutal rhythm. Every slap of his hips against your ass sends another shockwave through your overstimulated nerves, slick and messy where he drives into you.

“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he pants. “So wet—you makin’ a mess all over me, you feel that?”

You nod, moaning uncontrollably now as you meet every thrust with frantic need.

He leans in over your back, breath hot on your neck. “You gonna come for me?”

You can barely get the word out. “Y-yes—Arthur—please—”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he snarls, one hand sliding under to work your clit again. “Soak me. Come all over my cock.”

And you do. You come hard and wet, your whole body spasming, sobbing out a curse as slick gushes around him, thighs trembling violently. You nearly collapse, only held up by the force of his grip.

Arthur grits out your name, thrusts turning sloppy. “Fuck—I wanna come inside you—fill you up…”

Your head spins from the sound of it. Dumb as it is, in your post-orgasm bliss, you want it. “Do it,” you whimper.

But at the last second, he pulls out with a guttural growl, stroking himself fast.

“Shit—fuck—” he chokes, and then you feel it—hot, thick ropes painting your ass and lower back as he spills himself all over you, chest heaving, voice breaking with your name.

He stays there for a long moment, hand still gripping your hip, the other steadying himself in the dirt.

Then he exhales, slow and ragged. He looks around briefly.

His mare is nowhere to be found. 

“…We are never ridin’ double again.”

[kitchensinksurrealism]

thumbnail that says "staying in my band until I feel appreciated" and the video is 3 years long

[seumyo]

bakugou’s never been happier to do this alongside you.

The sound of Bakugou’s ringtone—specifically one for those calls—the kind that only came when villains decided to cause trouble at ungodly hours—jolted him awake on the second ring. The kind that meant neither of you were getting any more sleep.

He groaned loudly, his voice raspy from sleep. “Son of a—” He didn’t even finish the curse as he snatched his phone and squinted at the glowing screen. “What the hell is it this time?”

Beside him, you stirred, mumbling groggily as you pulled the blanket over your head. “Is it another one?” you asked sleepily, your voice muffled.

Bakugou ignored you for the moment, his phone pressed to his ear as the barking voice of the dispatcher filled the room. His brows furrowed deeper, his scowl turning deadly as he listened to the report. “Villains in the old district? At this hour? Those bastards don’t sleep or somethin’? Yeah, yeah—I got it. We’ll be there.”

He slammed the phone down on the bed, letting out a deep sigh as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Goddamn it. I hate this stupid job.”

You let out a small laugh beneath the blanket. “Liar.”

Bakugou glared at the lump of fabric that was you—his partner. “What’d you just say?”

“You heard me,” you teased, peeking out just enough for him to see the drowsy smile on your face—which can barely be seen with the dim light of the moonlight outside the bedroom window. “You love this job, Kats. You’d combust without it.”

“Like hell I would,” he muttered, standing up and running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m only outta bed ‘cause I don’t trust those extras not to screw up.”

“You’re up because you want to. Big difference.”

“Whatever.” Bakugou shot you a glance over his shoulder. “Hurry your ass up. Don’t got time for you to sit there all cozy like we ain’t got villains to blow up.”

You didn’t budge.

“Give me two minutes. I just need to—hey!”

Bakugou had moved without warning, stomping back to the bed and scooping you up in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised squeak as he effortlessly picked you up, blanket and all, and cradled you against his chest.

“Katsuki!” you protested, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, barely sparing you a glance as he carried you toward the door. “You’re slow as hell when you’re tired. This’ll save time.”

“You can’t just carry me every time we get called in!”

“Watch me.”

He stomped down the hallway, his bare feet thudding against the wooden floor, while his voice dipped into a string of curses. “Stupid villains. Stupid middle-of-the-night calls. Stupid hero work. I’m gonna blast whoever’s causing this into the next century.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now, your head falling back against his shoulder. “You sound like a cranky old man.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’m droppin’ you,” Bakugou threatened. “Why the hell are you laughin’? Think this is funny?”

“Very. You’re like my happy pill.”

“Yeah? And you’re heavy,” he grumbled, though the way he carried you effortlessly said otherwise.

“Excuse me?!”

A corner of Bakugou’s mouth quirked up as he looked down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes despite his perpetual scowl. “I didn’t say nothin’. Quit wastin’ time.”

You smiled against his shoulder, listening to him grumble about this whole ordeal. He sounded pissed—like the world had wronged him personally by waking you two up—but you could see the truth in his actions. His grip was steady, his movements careful as he carried you to where your hero gear was waiting. It was such a Bakugou thing to do: grumble and complain, but still take care of you without hesitation.

By the time you make it to the gear room, Bakugou carefully sets you down on your feet. You wobbled slightly from the sudden shift, and Bakugou’s hand instinctively shot out to steady you.

“Oi, don’t fall on me now.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes before turning to grab your hero suit. “You’re way too grumpy for someone who just carried me all the way here. Admit it—you love being a hero.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You do, though,” you teased, already halfway into your gear. “I know you do.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but he didn’t argue. Instead, his voice softened just enough to make you pause. “I wouldn’t do this job if it meant leavin’ you to deal with shit alone.”

You stilled, looking at him from the corner of your eye. He was standing by the doorway now, fully suited up and waiting for you, his face set in his usual determined scowl. But something about the way he looked at you, about the small, unspoken truths in his words, made your chest feel warm.

“Y’know, you’re so sweet to me at the most inconvenient times. Why can’t you say things like that when I don’t look like I’ve been ran over by a truck because I’m sleep deprived?”

“Die.”

“Is that your way of saying you love me too, Ka-tsu-ki?”

He scoffed. “Hurry up, dumbass. We’ve got work to do.”

“Ha! You didn’t deny it, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up, you’re annonyin’.”

You smiled faintly, finishing the last of your preparations before walking over to him. “But you love me.”

“Of fucking course,” Bakugou said, opening the door and stepping out into the brisk night air. “Let’s go. Those idiots could only hold out for so long ‘cause they really had to call us in.”

You followed close behind, still smiling to yourself as you fell into step next to him. Despite his grumbles, despite the curses under his breath, Bakugou had never been happier. Because at the end of the day, no matter how ungodly the hour, you were always there—and as far as he was concerned, nothing else mattered.

Because he loves this job—especially when he’s doing it alongside you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[i2sunric]

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 (s.jy)

PAIRING: horny!jake x succubus!reader (f)

SUMMARY: jake has always been an hyper sexual type boy, always seeking relief in the depth of night. but his hand isn't as satisfying anymore and neither are his toys, and in his moment of desperation, you appear like a gift sent from heaven (or hell).

WARNINGS: kinktober. succubus (a sexual demon), masturbating, pillow humping, riding, overstimulation, messy blow job, jake is kinda sub, doggy, missionary, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, dirty talking, manhandling, (idk if there’s a slight cnc?), slight choke kink, jake whines and whimpers (we like), cum eating, oral (m receiving), pussy licking, pet names (jakey, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th October 2024

WC: 2.9k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove (oneshot) @leov3rse @eileenville @roastandtoast @heeaxvhhoon @doublebunv @ancnymcnzjy @heartynoo @rii7eis7 @lyxnneee @yunahszx

a/n: i literally have 8 drafts for kinktober but i’m not sure i’ll be able to finish them all (sorry). i don’t even really like how this one came out but i thought i owned y’all some new fics since i’ve been ia for a while. please REBLOG to spread bcs only likes don’t take authors so far. thank you 🩷

Jake was resting on his bed, or so he tried to. His back was against the mattress, the only light illuminating the room was the one of the moon, entering from the window as if to peek to his desperation.

Fact was, he had been a painful hard on the whole day and fate wanted that he couldn’t seem to make himself come.

It was true when they said that as you overdo something, you grow tired of it, because his hand had stopped working a couple of weeks before, which led him to the sex shop downtown to purchase a couple of toys.

And they worked, for the following couple of days until the empty feeling after jerking off hadn’t come back.

“Ugh…” He muttered to himself, he was desperate at this point.

His entire body felt hot with arousal, the air around him getting stuffy. It was a wonder how his hand hadn’t fallen off from all the wanking he had done in the past week.

Jake was left with a raging bulge making fun of him through the fabric of his sweats, his cock so hard it was even painful to exist.

He grabbed his phone from off to the side, opening up the internet in hopes of finding something to satisfy his needs. He began scrolling on a pornography site, a small sigh escaping from his mouth as he quickly found something he liked.

It was a rather soft porn, just a ‘morning sex’ one, he skipped all the intro until it got to the good part.

Jake slowly pulled down his sweats, just enough to free his cock from the restraints of the clothing.

He hadn’t even worn his boxers to bed, feeling suffocated.

He raised the volume of the video, holding his phone with one hand while he started to touch himself with the other.

He was sensitive, slowly pumping his shaft up and down. As the moans of the video got louder and the boy fucked the girl harder into the mattress, he too tried to fast his pace— and nothing.

Jake continued his search, even going to the hidden pictures of his galleries where he kept screenshots of his favourite porns of all times.

Nothing seemed to work on him, nothing brought him enough pleasure to get him off.

Jake groaned loudly and threw his phone on the mattress, far away from him.

He stared at his cock as if it had personally offended him, it stood proud and angry red in front of him.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind.

If hand didn’t work, and neither did the kinky toys he got, he’d have to try the traditional way of fucking a pillow.

He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and turned around, his chest now pressed onto the mattress.

Jake rested his head on the other, smaller pillow while he raised his backside, enough to make a makeshift hole of the pillow.

He inserted his aching cock and thrusted his hips, slowly. The fabric of the pillow touching his length made him moan softly. He tried to imagine someone being under him, someone letting him rut his cock inside of them.

Just as he focused on the small pleasure he got, a giggle made his eyes widen in surprise.

Peeking from behind his shoulder, he noticed a red figure.

“What—“ Jake turned around, covering his dignity with the pillow (as if he wasn’t just grinding on it). There was no way someone had entered his bedroom, or his house in general. He remembered he had locked all the doors before going to bed, so how did you get inside?

You stood in front of the bed, looking at him with a wide smile on your face. Your skin was reddish, and you had small horns on your head, as well as a tail moving left and right, as if you were amused by the scene you had just witnessed.

“Hey,” You purred, waving your hand at him “Having fun there?”

“Who are you?” He asked, moving into a sitting position “Or… what are you?”

Your body was barely covered by a brown top and a pair shorts of the same colour, making your curves and body perfectly visible.

Lord, if you weren’t such an arousing sight. Had he been in the right mind, and not clouded by lust, he would’ve realised you were a succubus.

A demon that got its power from having sex with desperate men in the middle of the night, taking strength by their semen. Your body was meant to make him horny.

“Don’t worry about it...” You raised a brow, as if to ask, him for his name.

Jake understood and cleared his throat “Jake.”

You smiled happily “Jake, what a pretty name for a pretty boy!” You exclaimed.

“I am Y/N.” You introduced yourself, placing a hand on your chest, clearly making his attention go to your tits.

He nodded in reply, his eyes ranking over your figure warily “So.. what are you?”

You just rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to help you.” You bit your bottom lip “Don’t hide from me.”

Jake glanced down at where the pillow was hiding his lower body and let out a shaky breath.

He debated whether to listen to you or try and get some more answers out of you— but you were so willingly giving your help to him, he couldn’t just refuse you. Not after he had waited for this moment so long.

Cautiously, he removed the pillow, showing his cock that sprang free.

Your eyes widened and your mouth watered. “Aren’t you huge?” You complimented, loving the way it throbbed at your comment.

Just the sight of your perfect body made some precum leak from the tip, and you knew he must’ve been so pent up he was suffering.

“You don’t have a pussy to bury your pretty cock in?” You purred, slowly crawling on the bed.

“N-no.” Jake replied.

“It’s okay,” You stated, slowly pumping his shaft “You can use mine.”

Just your mere touch made his mind grow foggy, your pretty palm wrapped around his length.

He moaned softly as you spat on it, using your saliva to lubricate the skin.

Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, it just felt so good to finally be touched by something that wasn’t his own hand, and he whimpered when your mouth wrapped around him.

It was so warm and it felt so good, the way you slowly moved up and down, bobbing your head to pleasure him.

Without even him realising, his hand had moved to your hair, grasping your locks as he thrusted upwards.

In a way, you liked how desperate he was. Your power was lowering the past few days and he was just what you needed— a horny college student in desperate need of filling some nice pussy.

Oh, if only he knew your true intentions.

His hips began to move as he held you still, fucking your mouth like you were a flesh light. Though you felt even better.

You gagged around his length and the sound only fuelled his contorted desires. “Mh— fuck.” He moaned, his hips snapping back and forth “So good,” Jake breathed out “So fucking good.”

You decided to hollow your cheeks and let him use you, one of your hands moving inside your panties to lazily circle your clit. You were already dripping wet, while he was leaking precum inside your mouth, filling your taste buds with a bittersweet taste.

“I’m so close, M’gonna— Oh!” He groaned loudly as he shot his thick load down your throat, his cock pulsating inside your mouth as he pushed your head down further. You palmed his balls, just adding to the overwhelming pleasure he felt.

You could almost feel him whole down your throat, you frowned as you tried your best not to gag around it.

After a couple of seconds, he let you go, his breath heavy as he tried to regain strength.

You pulled away and licked your lips, loving the sweet taste of his cum.

And as you looked down, you noticed he was already hard. You widened your eyes, a smirk forming on your lips.

But Jake wasn’t as lust-high as he had been when you found him humping his night pillow, and he sat up properly.

With one swift movement he grabbed your throat, making sure not to squeeze it too tight and he pressed his plump lips on yours.

As surprised as you were, you quickly recovered and reciprocated the kiss, teeth crashing and tongues swiping one on the other.

His free hand snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness, making him swallow your moan.

“So wet for me, mh?” Jake murmured on your lips, helping you out of your tight shorts “Let me give you back your favours.”

You felt his finger press against your entrance but you stopped him. You certainly didn’t need any prepping, the only thing you needed was him shooting his cum deep inside of you.

But that, he didn’t need to know, so you just whined “Need you inside of me Jakey, please.”

“Yeah?” He retrieved his hand, manhandling you into the mattress. He crashed your head on the pillow - yes, the one he was fucking just a few minutes before - and held your ass up.

It was cute how he thought he was in charge, but you didn’t mind being dominated, so you let him be.

He opened your asscheeks with his slender fingers and licked a long stripe out of your folds, making you moan.

“Hurry,” You pressed your backside further into his face, making Jake slap your asscheek.

Had your skin not been already red, his slap would’ve left an angry mark. But you liked it, so you pressed your ass against him again.

Jake groaned, slapping the same asscheek that left a burning sensation cursing through your body.

He moved up, quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Want a condom?” You almost laughed at his question, reaching a hand to pull him close, you hissed “Give it to me raw.”

He felt himself grow even harder at your dirty talk, he pumped his shaft and pressed it against your clit, gathering all your sweet juices.

You hummed softly at the teasing, needing him to be inside of you, that thick cock to press against your cervix and making you see the heaven you weren’t allowed in.

With one quick thrust, Jake slammed all of himself inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

It was true that you didn’t need any prepping, having done this for a living - literally - but you felt him whole, “S’deep.” You sighed.

Jake moaned at how your walls hugged him, squeezing any drop of precum, swallowing his full length.

He pulled out just to slam back inside, gripping your asscheeks. “Fuck,” He breathed out, his pace already quickening as he tried to chase both of your highs.

“You like it deep, baby?” He asked, “You like it feeling me so deep inside of ya?”

You nodded, reaching your hand behind to touch him, but Jake got ahold of your wrists and held both of them behind your back.

The position would’ve been uncomfortable if you weren’t so aroused, it’d been a while since you were fucked hard and Jake seemed like the best victim you had in ages.

“Pussy so good,” He grunted, eyes squeezing as he felt himself near the edge “So fucking perfect, baby.”

You tried to peek at him from behind your shoulder, and Jake noticed. He gave you a sly wink and let go of your wrists, pulling out of you to turn you around.

Your back was now on the mattress, the human spread your legs wide as he aligned with your entrance once again.

He positioned your legs on his shoulders and quickly got inside again, as if he were addicted to being in you, his balls slapped against your ass.

“Better, ain’t it?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you to kiss his lips “I get to see your pretty face as I fill you up with my cum.” The angle you were bent was awkward but you didn’t really care.

The thought made you clench around him and Jake groaned in your mouth, his cock rutting fast and deep.

The squelching sound of skin slapping filled the room, for once Jake was glad of owning a house and not an apartment, or the neighbours would’ve had already come to complain.

He held your throat with his veiny hands, adding just the right amount of pressure to make you light-headed.

“Jakey,” You breathed out, mouth agape “Want your cum, give it to me.”

Your words only fuelled his desire, he sped his movements - if it was even possible - his face contorted in pleasure as he felt his orgasm approach.

“Yes, yes, M’gonna give it to you, baby,” He chanted out, his cock throbbing “Fuck— I’m gonna fill you up so good.”

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and squeezed your clothed breast, kneading at the soft flesh.

His movements became sloppy until with one last, deep thrust he came deep inside of you.

“Yes!” You breathed out, as his cum flooded inside of you, you could feel yourself growing stronger, your powers returning.

Jake’s movements grew slower until they stopped, his laboured breath tickled your skin.

He was tired, strangely so, he pulled out of you and laid beside you “Shit, this was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

His eyes closed as exhaustion washed over him, but you weren’t done.

Oh, you were far from done.

First, you hadn’t come yet and second, you needed more of his semen.

You climbed on top of him, smiling at his fucked up state. He looked so pretty with messy hair, swollen lips and red cheeks.

Jake slowly opened his eyes, widening them a little as he took you in “Y/N? What are you— Fuck.”

He groaned loudly as you fisted his softened cock, wanting him to get hard again so you could ride him.

“S-stop.” He gripped your hand but you were stronger than him now, shoving it away “Shh, I’ll make you feel good, pinky promise.”

You chuckled within yourself, slowly grinding your wet pussy on his hardening length.

Jake sighed, his hands lazily holding your hips “You need to cum, baby?”

You hummed, your fingers grazing his happy trail “Mh… yes, will you make me?”

Jake nodded, his eyes half lidded “I can use my tongue, no need to…” He grunted as you lifted yourself and held his dick up, slowly lowering on him.

As you bottomed out, you moaned, the shadow of his bulge peeking through your stomach.

You threw your head back, his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your wetness and his previous orgasm still lingering inside of you.

“M-too sensitive baby, please…” You chuckled, “You can take another one.”

His brows furrowed as you alternated between moving up and down and grinding him, his nails digging in the skin of your hips.

“So? Can you take another one, mh?” Jake sighed, nodding his head weakly “Y-yes.”

“Atta’ boy.” You exclaimed, rewarding him by riding him faster.

Jake felt all of your movements, the overwhelming sensation making his body rock with tremors “Can’t… can’t.”

“No, you can.” You grasped his shoulders and moved your hips almost frantically, your clit brushing against his skin.

His body tensed, his feet flexing and relaxing, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum again.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling your climax reach as well “Mh… give it all to me, Jakey.”

His hands moved to your breasts as he squeezed them to the point of pain, you clenched around him and he snapped.

His cum shot inside of you, his cock throbbing painfully as he came for the third time of the night.

He whimpered when you didn’t stop, trying to move you away but you didn’t, you just kept moving until you saw white as well.

Your legs trembled as you reached your euphoria, while Jake’s body collapsed whole on the bed.

His eyes slowly closed, too tired to even stay awake. He slowly succumbed to sleeping.

You smiled victoriously, feeling your powers raise even more. Standing up, you let the remaining of his semen drop out of you and stretched.

Sighing contentedly, you reached for your discarded shorts and put them back on.

“I’m feeling so refreshed!” You smiled happily, but as you turned around you saw Jake’s slumped figure on the mattress.

Feeling pitiful, since he seemed so vulnerable, you covered his naked body with the blanket. Smiling at his face, you noticed he really was a pretty guy.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, moving some hair out of his sticky forehead.

“See you soon, Jakey.” You smirked and disappeared, with the intention of coming back to him whenever you felt weak. Which, maybe would’ve happened more often.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising. 

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can. 

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed. 

“A crab,” 

“Yes,” 

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby. 

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke. 

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book. 

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself. 

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else. 

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend. 

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend. 

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand. 

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. 

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return. 

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance. 

“You must really like the beach.” 

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too. 

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.” 

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock. 

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.” 

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him. 

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker. 

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up. 

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses. 

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look. 

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone. 

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain. 

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. 

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat. 

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh. 

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away. 

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job. 

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes. 

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.” 

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little. 

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words. 

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically. 

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you. 

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. 

And then you make a giant fucking mistake. 

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too. 

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. 

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body. 

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures. 

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. 

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back. 

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise. 

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic. 

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. 

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it. 

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.” 

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-” 

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing. 

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. 

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building. 

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk. 

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window. 

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above. 

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?” 

“Mm, a few times.” 

“How?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.” 

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,” 

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little. 

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat. 

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.” 

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false. 

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper. 

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. 

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. 

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. 

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen. 

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs. 

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.” 

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass. 

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. 

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general. 

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily. 

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more. 

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. 

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face. 

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. 

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you. 

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine. 

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that. 

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.” 

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips. 

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. 

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim. 

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly. 

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length. 

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly. 

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed. 

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this. 

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu. 

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum. 

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you. 

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this. 

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. 

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time. 

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him. 

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here. 

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.” 

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape. 

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?” 

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.” 

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.” 

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?” 

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin. 

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?” 

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.” 

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.” 

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.” 

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[shuastar]

seungcheol!!!!!!!!!!! domestic fluff!!!! whimpering!!!!!!!! nipple play!!!!!!!! (both ways 😏😏😏😏) soft dom!!!!!

(the met gala pics have me 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🤖🤖🤖🤖👽👽👽👽👽👽)

YESSS !!! i was literally waiting to write this bc im a very proud yet closetted soft dom/slightly whiny!cheol. also holy shit scoups met gala was craaaazzzy i was creamin my pants (/jk!!)

wc: 1.1K + change warnings: whimpering, nipple play, cum play (just a little bit at the end), blow job (technically 2 but whatever), consent!! (bc asking to take someone shirt off and suck their nipples is HOT not gross or weird!!), domestic fluff that turns very quickly in smut..., PWP, whining, lowkey subby cheol but issok he gets his dominance back at the end...

---

It starts lazy.

Rain taps on the windows, low thunder humming in the background. Seungcheol's arms are wrapped around your waist as you both lie tangled on the couch, a blanket pooling over bare legs. The drama playing on the TV is long forgotten—replaced by the way his fingers slowly trace under your shirt, warm and wandering.

“You’re always so soft in the mornings,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. He just hums, lips brushing your cheek, then your jaw, then lower—

“You smell like my body wash,” he says, almost dazed, almost reverent, nuzzling into your collarbone like he needs to inhale you to stay grounded. “My pretty baby, just mine.”

His fingers slide up, tugging your shirt higher. “Can I?” he breathes against your skin, waiting for your nod before his mouth finds one nipple, tongue slow and wet, lips dragging gently. His hand palms the other, thumb rubbing in teasing circles, making you squirm under the blanket.

“Cheol—” You gasp, arching into him, and he whines softly in return, like your sounds undo him more than anything.

“You make the cutest sounds,” he whispers, mouth still latched, voice warm and thick with love. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart…”

And when you roll him onto his back and return the favor—mouth on his chest, tongue flicking and sucking at the sensitive spot you know makes him whimper—he actually shivers.

He grips the blanket tighter, biting his lip as a blush spreads down his chest. “Y-you’re not playing fair,” he stutters, moaning softly when you suck just a little harder.

“Neither are you,” you grin against his skin. “You started this, Seungcheol.”

He laughs breathlessly, eyes glazed over, adoring and needy. “Then finish it, baby,” he whispers. “Wanna be good for you. Wanna be yours.”

You giggle as he sits up against the headboard, cheeks flushed and eyes drooping as he watches you get up, slowly reaching for something on the night stand. When you turn back, hair against your shoulders, Seungcheol's thighs are parted, shirt riding up to his ribs, hair mussed from where your fingers tugged through it earlier. He looks at you like he’s already ruined—his lips parted, chest rising fast, and a shaky hand gripping the sheets.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you murmur, smiling and crawling between his legs, palms sliding along his thighs. you grin when you feel goosebumps rise against your fingertips. “All flushed for me.”

He bites his lip, eyes fluttering. “Baby… you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you cut him off gently, lips ghosting over the soft skin of his lower belly. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He whimpers—actually whimpers—when you mouth over the waistband of his briefs, teasing just enough to drive him crazy. When you finally free him, hard and leaking against his stomach, he moans your name like a prayer.

“Please…” he breathes, hips twitching up instinctively. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You wrap one hand around the base of him, slow and careful, and lower your mouth to the tip—tongue flicking gently over the slit, tasting the precum beading there. Seungcheol lets out the softest moan, one hand flying to your hair, not pushing—never—just grounding himself.

“F-fuck, baby, j's like that… you’re so good to me…”

You take him in deeper, inch by inch, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. His head tips back, a pretty flush blooming down his neck, his free hand grabbing the sheets again like he might fall apart.

When you hum around him—slow vibrations, tongue dragging up the underside—he lets out a full-body shudder and moans, loud. His hips jerk and he immediately pulls at your hair with a broken, “Sorry—fuck, sorry—feels too good…”

His head tips back again and a dull thud rings out in the background as the headboard hits his head. You feel his fingers curl around your hair, strong hands now almost -- almost -- guiding you. You know he can't help it. When you feel his hips jerk again, followed by a loud moan and a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck," you hum around his cock, taking in a long breath through your nose before you let your jaw loose and push yourself down all the way. All the way until your nose meets the tense and taut skin of his lower stomach and until your boyfriend's hand suddenly pressed down, legs tensing, hips rocking until the mushroomy tip of his cock hits, hits, hits, hits the back of your throat until you feel tears in your eyes and youre gagging around the width of his length.

“Hng - you’re perfect,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “My good girl… taking me so well. So warm—fuck—I’m already so close…”

When Seungcheol's hand slowly loosens you press your tongue flat and bob your head gently, the obscene sounds of your mouth and his breathy moans filling the room. And when he finally spills into your mouth, gasping your name like it’s the only word he knows, his thighs trembling around you. Hot cum shoots into your mouth and your ears are blessed with Cheol's loud moans and whines and whimpers and gasps of breath. Under your wandering hands -- up his stomach, tweaking his pink nipples, fondling his heavy balls, tongue underrent on the red tip of his cock, Seungcheol gasps in short quick breaths, body writhing as he shakes and trembles, at a loss for words, cock jumping in your hands, tip pulsing in your mouth as you suck and suck and--

"Fu-fuck-- holy -- you tryin' - shit - milk me dry -- fuck -- or somethin'?" Seungcheol voice is so broken it makes your heart race in pride.

You don’t stop, just hum, until his hand cups your cheek, tender and shaking, body curling forward, hips jerking up, other hand threaded into your hair as he pushes you down.

"Fuck!"

And then when his balmy tip hits the back of your throat again, theres a thick spurt of saltiness on your tongue, followed by a sob torn from Seungcheol's mouth.

You grin around his cock, slowly pulling off his softening and pulsating length with a small pop! cum from the first blowjob now a creamy ring around Cheol's cock and the second round safe and warm on your tongue.

You stick your tongue out, white cum dripping from the corner of your mouth, Seungcheol staring at you with dazed and glazed eyes, red cheeks like you just hung the moon. You slowly swallow, sitting against his hips, cum still against the corner of your mouth, the rest gone (and you 100% stick your tongue out again for him to see).

Seungcheol groans, hands going to knead your hips, thumb gently wiping away his cum from the corner of your mouth, licking it clean.

"You minx," he laughes breathily. “C’mere,” he whispers once he catches his breath, tugging you up with that needy look in his eyes. “Wanna kiss you. Wanna feel you now. Let me love you properly.”

[szftzy]

yandere batfam concept!

okk so what if, batfam! but mc is a senior, around 18, about to graduate. they work a part time job paying off expenses, while cramming studies and what not. quite a productive life style right?

well, it most definitely gets tiring. thing is, mc knows two brothers around their age, and knowing them for quite a while. sure they were intimidating at first, but you grew to like them as good friends! the younger brother being feisty, while the older one witty.

now you forgot to bring up a fine detail, they were billionaires. more specifically— waynes.. now i know that was a crucial detail but bare with me here!

now, the mc is not a leech. they would enjoy treating themselves, but their dignity as a hard working person doesn't let them! that includes asking of anything from their filthy rich acquaintances.now, when the brothers had invited them over on their behalf, after a while of knowing them, it was pretty awesome.. like not to be dramatic.

now as they had kept sleeping over one or two times, they had meet the rest of the siblings. they had quite a big family, (5 brothers, 3 sisters, a butler and their dad.) of course having equal excitement for each member they had met, but definitely not amounting to the adore they had for their dad! I mean cmon, he built this empire by his bare hands! you'd like to know if you could get a tip or two on how to be successful, ya know.. for the near future.

now that you think about it, that makes you more excited to hang out with them. their family dynamic is so bizarre and so full of life, you do get a bit jealous at times— but never in any bad intentions, you are more than happy for them! plus if it gets you free delicious cookies from the butler, your more than down!

hanging out more around them makes you notice all their little ticks, everything that they like, anything that puts a frown on their face.. even though thats routine for some of them. ahem ahem.. now at a point it can get lonely, like your so invited in the family, but not at the same time..? its sorta difficult to explain, so just never-mind.

now it does get to a point where the mc, gets their own room! now you definitely had a guest room, but at some point your room starts to have life. its not a guest room anymore, little by little it fills up with your interests, your favorite colors, anything that you would like. although subtly gets noticeable over time. now it definitely had a bit of childish tones about it, which was weird considering you were about to be a legal adult.. but okay?

Now at this point, Its nearly graduation. now this would be a joyous event, if not for the fact you were planning on leaving for metropolis.(of all places?) as a kid, you always knew you didn't wanna stay in Gotham, it being the dangerous and gloomy city, although it had its pros, the cons were way more.

And you definitely had grown to adore your friends, they almost feel like family at times, but life has to go on. right?

when they heard about this, they were not elevated for sure.. for a while after that it was just awkward smiles and weird tensions, neither side being happy with what was gonna happen, but you had to.

before school got too busy, you decided to go out with them more! they insist on sleepovers instead of going outside, which you don't really understand why since it wont make a difference. maybe its because they were billionaires or something.. Man rich people are weird.

Anyways, when it came time for exams, you had nearly stopped going out at all. concerning them immensely, but it had taken you a while to assure them you were studying. much to their dismay. (weird, that was something they always detested? their not setting a very good example.) now when you finished up exams, and your graduation ceremony occurred, of course they had to be there!

and after that, they would start bombarding you with text messages, each text had a personality where without even looking at who sent it you could tell who it was from, each text begging you for something. it was always something about— come over! stay! dont go! say goodbye! yada yada yada..—

now it gets annoying at a certain point. but you had decided to pay them one last visit, having packed your stuff and everything done early, you decided it couldn't hurt— oh really now?

your last dinner with them, was interesting! at first the tension was as thick as a wall. for the most part it being small chit chat. but over time, you guys had regained your flow of conversations, everyone chatting and laughing actually having a good time. now their dad doesn't join in alot, but when he does, he also does have fun! which is a bit odd, but its adorable.

when he kindly offered you chamomile tea, you politely refused, but since he insisted, you decided to take him up on his offer. now this wasnt anything weird since the waynes were very generous, but now for some odd reason everyone was staring.. which you tried to pay no mind to.

but as you continue drinking the tea you felt more and more woozy, knowing to just stop and put the tea down..

suddenly a rough hand from behind firmly grabs the cup and gently peers it up to your lips, in total shock you had tried to push the hands away, but it was to no use. you could only watch as you kept drinking the obviously drugged cup, feeling the other hand rubbing against the small of your back soothingly..

you were only a little bit conscious here and there.. enough to feel someone easily carrying you, leading you somewhere, and tad bits of conversations that slipped your mind before you could comprehend.

now waking up in this room, the room you had a bad feeling about.. surrounded by comfortable pillows, big cute plushies, and soft large sheets. to your surprise you were also changed in the most comfortable silk pajamas. it almost coerced you to fall back asleep but you knew better!

you immediately jumped up and ran up to the door, quite obviously secured with locks from the outside.

you tried pushing the doorknob but to no avail, now due to your panic you just froze. immediately lying down on the floor from shock, tears bubbling up.

you buried your face into your knees, and just started sobbing your heart out— why now?! why now of all times to ruin your life? just when it started to get good for you..

you then hear the sound of keys being forced open, and then the door gets kicked down. did someone come to save you? at the doorway, their was the brothers! both with worried looks on their faces, the two ran up to you and immediately locked you in their warm yet suffocating embrace

they immediately start apologizing, for not being there when you woke up.. wait what? they're not here to help?

then it all connected, you were an idiot.. yesterday.. this room. it was obviously their doing. you attempted to sprint off the minute they loosened their grip, bad move.. they were gonna let you explore the manor. but now they knew you need a few months to get adjusted.

now they had tried to not overwhelm you too much, their precious baby, only a few batfamily members being there at a time. sometimes all of them would be there, but at that point you would be napping. unaware to the eyes adoringly watching you drool on whoever had the fortune to carry you that day.

they're so affectionate towards their sibling/kid to a point where its infantilizing. like they will just hold you down for hours, whispering sweet nothings as you lay down in the comfiest bed you can imagine of.

of course sometimes you can still leave your room here and there! ljust not the manor itself. (like you cant leave, ever.) and yes you can still do all your favorite hobbies, darling.. but I'm a little afraid its too grown up for you.. how about we lay down for a nap, okay?

not to mention— you used to have a job, before they confined you. you used to have studies, responsibilities and issues— all that? no more, we'll take care of all that.

don't start questioning them why you suddenly feel lightheaded and tired right after waking up from another nap. its definitely not the tea they just coerced you to drink! again! you probably just thought a little too hard for your fragile brain.. its okay, just rest your head in their lap and let all your worries go away. <3

and you couldnt even fight back! you were not blessed with the best height or physique, and not to mention even the members who didn't fight as much, still had years of technique and experience! yeah.

and now all of a sudden anytime a conversation gets even the slightest bit mature, they'll cover your ears and act like your not there, or have another member of the family escort you to your room for a nap. you don't need to know any of that, sunshine. and if you try to insert your own take on the topic? they'll just laugh, no baby.. your too precious to actually understand these big conversations. maybe when your older?

on the topic of your room again— it is the cutest, most comfortable room someone could think of! filled with your favorite colors, big pillows and plushies.. way too childish for your tastes.. but at first when you had slept over you didn't mind. the room had no windows, you didn't think much at first. not until they had started adding more locks to your door? and apparently your room is soundproof?

no wonder any guests they have over cant hear your pleas of help, thats even if you were allowed to be awake when they came over! please forgive them.. they're just so overprotective, and feel so jealous if someone comes near.

oh and if someone questions whats the door with alot of locks, positioned right next to your dads, was for? well they'd either just change the topic as quick as they could, or give them a filthy look that would make them reconsider ever asking that question.. poor guy.

It evolved from just staying over at your rich friends house, to being under lock and key, as their little baby for them to cherish and adore.

soo this was jus a lil drabble, but lemme know if you guys want a part 2 or something longer!

[lovingniamh]

₊˚ʚ 🩷 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. bathwater and wine ― Alessia Russo.

summary: you and alessia decide to christen the bath of your new home.

warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, you are responsible for the content you consume.

word count: 3.1k.

a/n: it’s the summer, i have infinite free time, and an alessia obsession..

( REQS OPEN FOR ALESSIA! )

There was something oddly comforting about the first few days in a new, empty home, no furniture, no proper lighting, just the bare essentials that came built-in. The kind of quiet that echoed when you walked, where your voices bounced off the walls like ghosts of conversations not yet had. It should’ve felt cold, impersonal, but somehow, it didn’t.

You both leaned fully into your inner interior designers, all mood boards and Pinterest saves, even if neither of you had any real intention of assembling anything yourselves. Alessia had “a vision”, vague and ever-shifting depending on the time of day and whether or not she was hungry. You mostly just nodded and tried to keep her from buying five versions of the same linen throw.

If IKEA was good at one thing, it was turning their job into yours. Boxes upon boxes piled in the hallway, filled with pieces that made no immediate sense, accompanied by a manual thick enough to double as a murder weapon.

Diagrams, arrows, and an encouraging cartoon man who clearly didn’t know what a power drill was. You squinted at the pages; Alessia handed you screws like it was surgery, and somehow, with a lot of sighing and a little swearing, things slowly started to look like a home.

By the time you finally cracked the last instruction for the new bed frame, it was well past sunset. The streetlights had flickered on outside, casting a soft, golden haze through the bare, curtainless windows.

Inside, the overhead bulb, still lacking a lampshade, buzzed faintly above you, shining down with the sterile glow of an office cubicle. Your eyes burnt, your fingers ached, and there was a suspicious bruise blooming on your shin from where the corner of a side panel had attacked you an hour earlier. You were honestly surprised you were still going.

Alessia had long since migrated from ‘supervisor’ to ‘decorative fixture’, lying belly-down on the rug with her head propped on her arms, scrolling through lighting options on her phone like she was picking out constellations.

Every few minutes she’d ask something like, “Would gold look tacky?” or “Is 96 quid an appropriate price for a lampshade?” without looking up. You’d grunt in response, not because you had strong feelings about the price or the look – it was a lampshade – but because your brain was entirely focused on making sure you weren’t screwing the slats in upside down, again.

Eventually, the last screw turned into place with a small, satisfying click. You sat back on your heels and exhaled like you’d just finished a marathon. Alessia perked up at the sound, tossing her phone somewhere near the foot of the bed and crawling over to inspect your handiwork like she’d been part of the process the whole time.

“We did it,” she said, grinning, running a hand along the newly assembled headboard like it was handcrafted mahogany.

“Seriously? ‘We’?” You deadpanned.

She raised a brow. “I was moral support.”

You reached out and tugged her closer by the hem of her sweatshirt. “You were lying on the floor googling fairy lights.”

“Exactly. Ambience.”

Despite yourself, you laughed, a soft, tired sound that felt good in your chest. You got up and managed to lift the mattress, that was propped against the wall, by yourself, and fitted it on top of the frame, before falling back onto it with a dull thud, bouncing slightly against the sturdy frame you placed together beneath. Alessia followed, curling in beside you like she belonged there, limbs tangled, her nose brushing your jaw.

The room was still mostly empty, no decorations, just the occasional plant and a stack of books you hadn't bothered to shelf yet, and now an unnecessarily big bed Alessia had picked out due to something about you liking to kick in the night. But it felt like something. Like the start of something.

“I’m running a bath,” she mumbled after a while whilst yawning, already halfway out of your arms and shuffling down the mattress. “My back is screaming.”

Rolling your eyes, you watched her go, stretching like a cat as she padded across the room. She looked soft in the low light, all messy hair and oversized sleeves, the picture of cosy domestic bliss, if you ignored the box of leftover screws on the floor and the shit ton of cardboard. 

You stayed there for a while after she left, limbs sprawled across the bed like you’d been dropped from a height, letting the mattress absorb the weight of the day. Your body ached in a way that felt earned, the kind of soreness that came from doing something tangible, something you could point at and say, 'We built that,' even if it wobbled slightly and was a little wonky.

From the bathroom, you heard the water running, the faint squeak of the old tap you needed to get replaced, and the rustle of Alessia pulling off her jumper, probably flinging it somewhere in that chaotic trail she always left behind. The smell of something floral crept through the doorway, lavender, maybe, or something even softer, and it struck you as impossibly domestic. Like you'd somehow wandered into someone else’s life.

You were still debating whether to peel yourself off the bed when her voice came, lazy and low and half-muffled over the hum of water, and incredibly bossy, which is the attitude she has been acquainted with during this move-in process.

“Y/N! Bring me the wine! And don’t forget the good glasses, not the bloody mug again.”

You sighed, dramatic for effect, but your body moved easily now, already slipping back into that rhythm of doing things just because she asked. You grabbed the half-open bottle from the bare, marble kitchen counter, the one you’d both said you’d have “just a glass” of earlier and then forgot about, and found two of the new wine glasses Alessia thought were appropriate as one of the first ‘new home’ purchases.

The bathroom was warm and hazy when you pushed the door open, a golden glow bouncing off the tiles from a single lamp perched dangerously on the windowsill, and you stared at it warily.

Alessia was already sunk deep into the tub, one leg hooked lazily over the rim, her arms draped on either side like she was being offered to the gods, not a single care in the world. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, a few wisps clinging to her damp forehead. Steam curled gently in the air, softening the sharp corners of the room, and you noticed bits and pieces you’d need to get the builders in for, plus maybe some new tiles.

When she saw you, her eyes lit up in that quiet, smug way she always wore when she got what she wanted. She tilted her head back with a sigh and reached for the glass you handed her, fingers brushing yours.

“You’re good at taking instructions when I make them sound appealing,” she murmured, swirling the wine in her glass.

You scoffed, sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor beside the tub, resting your chin on top of your arm across the edge. “You were barely coherent.”

“Still worked.”

You clinked your glasses together with a quiet tap. The first sip burnt pleasantly on the way down, washing away some of the tension still clinging to your shoulders. Alessia hummed in contentment, eyes fluttering shut, the rise and fall of her breathing syncing with the soft ripples in the water.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was not awkward, but rather filled. Comfortable. You watched her chest rise and fall, her skin glowing under the warm light, water lapping gently at her collarbones. She looked content. Unbothered. The exact opposite of how she’d looked earlier when she tried to justify buying a £70 wall mirror with no actual plan to hang it.

“What do you think about the bath? You think we need a new one?”

“I think that… you should get in,” she said eventually, cracking one eye open, voice like the steam itself, gentle, inviting, indulgent.

You smirked, turning your head to look at her. “There’s barely room.”

“There’s enough for now.”

You shook your head, looking inside your wine glass before peering back up at her. “You just want me to do the heavy lifting of washing your hair.”

She smiled without denying it, eyes flickering to your mouth. “That, and I like you better when you're warm and wet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She took another sip, unbothered. “Mhm.”

It took all of ten seconds before your hand found her shin, sliding slowly up her damp leg. She didn’t flinch; she just let her knee fall open a little wider, her lip sucked between her teeth as she let herself feel your touch, the sensation.

The tension between you shifted, not sudden, not sharp, but like warm honey being poured into something already simmering. And maybe the bath wasn’t really built for two. And maybe the wine would go forgotten again. But Alessia was already watching you with that look, the one she reserved for soft nights and quieter moments, and you were already leaning closer, trailing your fingers just beneath the waterline. You did a lot of hard work today; you deserved it.

You left your wine on the tile beside you and peeled your shirt off, shivering in the tiny gust of air as you shed the rest. Alessia watched, her chin balanced on her kneecap now, eyes heavy, assessing, like you were another piece of furniture she’d decided on long before, this time one that came fully functional.

She scooted forward, making room, and you climbed in behind her, knees knocking ceramic, the water overflowing just enough to lap at the edge, scattering droplets across the floor.

She settled herself against your chest; you pulled her in, arms snaking around her middle, and felt the subtle tremor of her exhale as she melted into the bracket of your body. Her skin was liquid-warm and slick, and you pressed a soft kiss onto the damp crown of her head, then another, trailing a slow, deliberate line down the side of her throat.

Alessia’s hair, dampening at the nape, smelt like some soft, expensive thing you couldn’t pronounce but which, for the moment, you decided to privately call “Alessia”.

Your hands drifted, barely grazing the surface of her skin, feeling goosebumps ripple up her arms in the wake. She let her head loll back onto your shoulder, exposing the length of her neck, throat bobbing as she swallowed the rest of her wine in one reckless mouthful. You guided the glass from her hand, setting it with a clink beside the bath, along with yours. She shuddered, hips twitching from the smooth press of your bodies, and you pinned your palm flat over her stomach, feeling the flutter beneath.

The dampness between her thighs wasn’t just bathwater. You nudged her knees apart with your hands, arms braced around her, and let one slip, winding lower, fingers tracing restlessly until they found the soft divide of her legs, the other gripping at her thigh.

The heat there was a different kind, urgent, greedy, hardly contained by the tepid water and milky drift of suds. She made a low sound, throaty and rough, one she’d ever let anyone else hear, but her elbow pressed back into your ribs, seeking more.

You curled your hand further, parting her gently once more, and when your fingers slipped over her, you found her already slick, with delicate heat, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse just under the skin. She rocked once, a shiver running the length of her, and you used the tip of your nose to nudge her jaw to the side, pressing your mouth to the wet hollow beneath her ear.

Your wrist flexed as you circled her clit with slow, measured patience, your favourite way to tease her, to see how long this new, careful living together would last before it devolved back to the raw, hungry thing it had always been before.

Alessia’s hand shot out, gripping your thigh hard enough it would bruise in the morning, and she gasped, trying to stifle it, but the echo bounced off the tiled walls and returned to you, louder than intended. She had always been loud, not in conversation, but in the way she felt things; she filled the air with the force of it, pressing herself unapologetically into every moment, every touch.

You eased two fingers inside her, slow, the way she liked, curling against that spot that made her arch, her head knocking against your shoulder in a silent plea. Her thigh knocked against yours, slick and hard, and you grinned, ducking your head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pink of her cheek.

“Fuck,” she whispered, voice hoarse, hand still clutching your leg like she was drowning and you were keeping her afloat. “Don’t stop.”

Her voice had gone ragged, and you answered by pressing the hand that was around her thigh flat against her trembling abdomen, holding her in place as you pumped your fingers deeper, slower, dragging each movement out until she was panting softly, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut.

You murmured something wordless into her ear, a comfort or a promise, neither of you could say, whilst your hand crept up to cup her chest, mapping the sharp rise and fall of her breaths. She twitched, once, twice, and then her head knocked back against your jaw, and she was making that sound again, high and frantic, almost a cry, choked into something like laughter, as she broke apart in your arms.

The water sloshed against your chest, her body going taut for a moment, shivering, then melting bonelessly back into you. You held her through it, anchoring her to you while the aftershocks trembled through her, every little heartbeat visible, tangible, as if your own skin was the drum.

You nuzzled her temple, tracing lazy circles on her stomach with the pad of your thumb, gratified by the way she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. You liked her best this way: entirely undone, stripped of every careful, curated thought.

She slid lower in the water, half-turning to face you, eyes wet and glassy, but with a dangerous spark lighting underneath. Her mouth found yours, warm and open, tasting faintly of wine and something sweeter. Her hands, always colder than you expected, slipped behind your neck, pulling you down and wrapping you into her, so your chins bumped together and your lips crashed in a way that would have been clumsy with anyone else, but with Alessia it was a challenge, a dare, a hot-breathed demand to stay with her in the bath until the water went cold and your skin wrinkled.

Her legs folded over yours, trapping you in the crook of the tub, water sloshing over your thighs as her fingers worked their way down, drifting under the surface. She guided your hand back between her legs, not even pretending to be patient about it now, and you let her, sinking your fingers back inside, this time curling your palm to match the frantic rhythm she set with her hips.

Her breathing was a hot, humid pressure against your cheek, her teeth nipping at your jaw as if she could bite the aftershocks out of her own body.

It was a different kind of closeness, everything in this new flat echoing every move and sound, magnifying the wet slide of your bodies and the tiny, insatiable noises Alessia made as you let your fingers return to their work.

“Look at you...” You hummed sultrily and watched her in the reflection of the misted bathroom mirror, the way her eyelids fluttered and her mouth parted on each breath, the way your own arms bracketed her in, holding her together, holding her apart.

The mirror fogged more every second, but you could still see the outline of Alessia’s body, undulating with every movement you made, and it gave you a stutter of pride, a sense of rightness that was as physical as it was emotional. “You’re so beautiful like this, falling apart for me.��

“Yes… like that,” she said, voice almost gone, and you tightened your hold a little, pressing the palm of your hand perfectly flush against her clit, the way she liked, the way that always made her come undone so fast she’d go boneless in your arms for minutes after. You circled your fingers inside her, slow at first, then hard and fast as she started to shake, her whole body going rigid, a fine tremor running up her spine. ”Fuck.”

You didn’t stop, not when she jerked, not when she clapped a hand over her own mouth as if that would keep the sounds in, not when her forehead fell against your own. You curled your fingers, found that spot again, and she twitched with a strangled moan, water splashing up in a miniature wave.

The air in the bathroom had gone thick, humid with steam and your shared exertions. You stroked her hair back from her temple, kissed the swell of her cheekbone, and let her rest against you until her breathing calmed. She tasted of sweat and lavender and the cheap Merlot neither of you could ever admit to liking, she tasted like home.

Eventually, she straightened, water slipping off her in a shining sheet.

Your thumbs rubbed at her hips, before asking her, “You okay?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, eyes flicking up to you, and grinned. “You asked me what I thought of the bath, yeah?” she said, voice still low and lazy. “Well, I think we may need to think about, more or less, renovating the whole bathroom.”

The floor, you saw, was already lacquered with half an inch of water, trails of bubbles slipping toward the hallway like they had somewhere better to be. “Yeah”, you huffed, running a hand through your hair, “I wasn’t sold on the tiles anyway.”

She hummed in agreement, the sound all soft amusement. You shifted onto your knees under the water, the movement sending another gentle wave lapping at the sides of the tub. Alessia watched you curiously, head tilted. 

“Do you actually want me to wash your hair?” 

She smiled at your softness, at the shift in you that only she ever seemed to coax out, “No, I washed it yesterday.”

With that, you leaned forward to reach for the plug, the suction giving a subtle groan as it broke, water already beginning to swirl around your thighs.

Alessia sighed, long and theatrical, resigned to the end of the warmth. Before she could complain further, you grabbed the towel from the barely functional radiator, wrapping her in it as she stood, all loose limbs and dripping skin. She yelped in protest as you tugged her towards you, but the sound turned quickly into a laugh when you buried your face in the crook of her neck, muffling your grin into her skin.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you pressed a soft, fleeting kiss once she was bundled snugly in the towel. She returned it just as gently, smiling into the kiss before pulling back slightly. Then her gaze drifted past you toward the radiator.

“Wait… do we seriously only have one towel?”

© lovingniamh please do not repost, steal or translate my work.

[hai7ani]

familiar / haitani rindou

Haitani Rindou turns 32, gets married, and he silently wonders why people are so nice to him now.

the old retired ladies promoting milk powders and selling fresh fruits in the grocery store rushes up to him at any chance they get. one time when browsing for milk formulas one of them had tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at a brand she was not promoting for but thought was amazing when her own grandchild had tried it, and then placed a bunch of other stuff in his cart that she thinks his wife would need. an example would be containers of freshly cut mixed fruits that her colleague had just prepared. you remember him telling you that her tone was a lot more different than the average grocery store promoter trying to sell you a product ー it was almost as if she was talking to her own son.

when shopping for flowers just like he does every Sunday suddenly the part-timer who is usually silent, does her job and only responds to customers' needs had stepped up to him and pointed out a few selections that she believes are lovely for expecting parents. she was even smiling when doing so. and you remember he came home to you that day with two bouquets of fresh flowers ー chrysanthemum and baby's breath ー one in each hand.

today when taking you out for dinner in the local family-owned restaurant the daughter had served you a warm bowl of beef bone soup. neither of you had ordered it for yourselves, and you were about to tell her that, but her mother speaks before you can. "drink it, love. the soup is good for you." she yells a little from where she sits at the cashier with a grin. when Rindou stands to pay after finishing up her husband then refuses to take your bill for the night. "it's okay, son. dinner's on the house this time." he pats his shoulder and pushes you both out the door. "take care, you two. the next time you come i'll cook tofu for you, alright?" it was directed to you and you'd laughed, a little embarrassed but feeling warm and fuzzy nonetheless.

and now you are listening to your own husband ramble on and on about his new mysteries while he massages your feet on the couch.

"i seriously don't get it. i've been going to these places for years now and they were never this nice to us. i mean, they are nice, but never this nice, you know? it's the first time we've ever gotten a free meal from Kobayashi's."

we. us.

you brush his hair back, admiring the light wrinkles that have started to form on his skin. "that's exactly it, don't you think?" you bring it up and he hums in confusion.

"perhaps the reason why they've been so nice lately is exactly because you've been going to these places for years now. they know you."

"huh?"

"if you think about it, they've watched you go from an ordinary man to a husband, then a father. watched you bring a girl they've never seen before to these places more often and suddenly we go together all the time, you have a ring on your finger and i am pregnant. perhaps it is why. a sense of familiarity, maybe?"

Rindou looks at you as if you are love and warmth and everything pink and red and blue and purple and-

you are right, actually. you'd went from a girl he met at a bar to becoming the love of his life, the woman who is now carrying the love you both share. and the ladies at the grocery store, the Kobayashi's, the part timer who's been around even after graduating university years ago? they've all watched him grow.

when Rindou was 17 and had gotten ambushed by a rival gang alone, it was madam Kobayashi who'd ushered him into their store way past the last call and offered to cook him a nice meal, had her medical student son patch him up, her husband to chase away the remaining guys who were waiting for Rindou to come back out. her daughter had been about Rindou's age then, hiding behind the cashier and watching as he ate in silence with a cut to his lip, another on his eyebrow. (to this day still no one except for you, her, and him, knows that the reason he'd gotten ambushed that day was because he'd stood up for miss Kobayashi when she was getting bullied by one of the delinquents. she still thanks him for what he'd done whenever you both finish up your meal and get ready to leave.) Rindou was 17 when he'd first discovered what it was like to care for people; to be a human before anything else.

the two ladies from the grocery store wasn't yet retired and working this job back then. the promoter lady used to be the janitor who was working in the office building of his first job. she'd watched him gone through periods of unknowing, confusion, stress, to become a solid man of status today. the lady who is selling fruits used to work as a professional tutor and had been the one to tutor Rindou and his brother on Mathematics. although she is mute and can't respond in words when her students have confusing questions to ask, the brothers still thought of her as a good teacher because of the way she taught, which is why they'd stuck around and refused to switch teachers despite their parents' disapproval. because she is mute, she can only count on her colleague to dump containers of freshly cut fruits into his cart while motioning for her to tell him things that she actually wants to say to him whenever he visits the store.

the part timer at the florist is a lot younger than he is, but she have been working there for a very long time. watched him when he was still an inexperienced bachelor pacing around the store wondering which flower would be good on a first date to buying the same flowers every Sunday because you'd liked the lilies that she recommended.

it'd be heartwarming for anyone to see the boy you watch grow around love, into love, finding love, to marrying her and becoming a father.

"...yeah. maybe."

[f4ggydog]

Shauna and lottie taking advantage of reader 🤭

LOTTIESHAUNA X READER NONCON:

you’re hesitant, secured with makeshift rope by your arms. your lip won’t stop quivering and you’re trembling more than a leaf in the wind.

“s-shauna,” you whimper, but she trails a finger up and down your spine.

“shhhh.”

shauna’s unwrapping you, like a present ready to be delivered. your revealing top slips off first, two holes roughly carved out on the areas where your nipples would be seen.

your pants rolls down your legs next. with your hands restrained and your body weak, you feel unable to fight back against shauna’s undressing. you’re not sure what she wants. you’re not sure if she wants to sacrifice you to the wilderness as some sort of food for the wilderness. the team’s got their meat supply. what could she possibly want?

either way, you assume the worst as you’re lead to the main area of the cabin. lottie has escorted everyone else outside, making sure that nobody is here to witness what you’re about to face. the first thought that comes to your mind is death. you’re dead. you’re done for. you should give a last kiss goodbye before you perish.

but shauna doesn’t have brutality when she pushes you to meet lottie. instead, she just tightly holds your back and whispers for you to calm down. shauna is hasty though, like she’ll get a beating if she doesn’t escort you to lottie at the speed of light.

shauna stops when her eyes meet lottie’s. her hand is gripping your hip and her other is cupping her chin, cooing at your little sniffles and tears of fear.

“bring them to me,” lottie orders softly. “you didn’t undress them fully.”

“i’m sorry my queen.” shauna lowers her head. “I forgot about their underwear. i promise it was an accident.”

“i’m not reprimanding you my little butcher.” lottie smirks. “i wouldn’t mind finishing the undressing myself.”

“what is happening?” you mumble under your breath, wishing you could decipher either of their intentions.

“don’t worry about it,” shauna reassures. “just go along with it. don’t be afraid.”

“g-go along with what?”

“shhh, don’t ask too much. don’t think about it too hard. just…do what lottie says. she’s gonna take care of you.”

lottie finishes the job, your underwear falling down as she removes it with ease. the fabric falls to your feet, your pussy exposed to the chilly air and lottie’s perverted gaze. you shiver, quickly scanning the room for a way out. but neither girl seems intent on giving you an escape relatively soon, not until you served your purpose at least.

“please…whatever I’ve done, im sorry.” you hope your apologies will bring back your autonomy and free will. right now, it feels clear that you’ve been deprived of both.

“this is a gift,” lottie murmurs, kissing down your unsteady legs. “god, so gorgeous. I’m glad you chose them, shauna.”

“only the best for you, my queen.” shauna bows and her hand roughly squeezes your ass cheek. “should they face the floor yet?”

“give me a moment to get a look at them,” lottie coos. “it’s not often that I’m greeted with such a ravishing little thing.”

thing? were you just an object to be played with? was your humanity now gone too? this was a sick joke, some sort of disgusting prank surely.

“they’ll be perfect for my cock.” lottie lines up kisses across your thigh.

“you’re not worried about them being too tight?” shauna smirks.

“I’m gonna make it fit,” lottie asserts. “i always do.”

shauna forces you to the ground on your back by lottie’s commands. she eyes your bare body hungrily, genuinely wanting a piece of the action. but she’s loyal to lottie and she wont start ravaging unless she’s given permission to. instead, she leers at you, eyes fixated on your sensitive nipples.

lottie drops to her knees, fishing her heavy cock out of her pants and slapping the head against your cunt. you’re on the verge of tears. but when you speak up, your voice is already cracked, like you’ve already been broken long before lottie had the chance to.

“need you so bad,” lottie mumbles. “fuck, you’re gonna feel perfect. i just know it. you were practically designed for me.”

“they sure were,” shauna agrees, sitting in anticipation as lottie’s tip teases your entrance.

“i want you to watch as i do this,” lottie says to her subordinate, shauna. “i want you to learn about taking what belongs to you. i want you to learn what it means to do something for the greater good of your peers. some things may be questionable at first glance, but sometimes we have to questionable things to save others.”

“i understand my queen,” shauna replies, eyes locked on your form. “I totally get it.”

“good.” lottie slams into you and you nearly lose your breath.

the thickness of lottie’s cock doesn’t help the sensation whatsoever. your belly feels like it’s burning and your pussy tightens whenever one of lottie’s cock veins rubs against your walls. your toes curl in agony, your hands struggling against the ropes securing them.

“shhh, such a good puppy,” lottie coos as her hips move. “taking me so good. am I too big for you, baby?”

“i think so,” shauna chuckles. “it’s cute to watch them struggle, though. nothing more appealing than being forced into submission.”

“it’s so silly too,” lottie says, shaking her head. “I’m giving them exactly what they need and they’re rejecting it only because it sounds scary at first. it’s a little sad, but nothing some training can’t fix.”

”n-no more,” you beg defeatedly. “n-no more, please. i can’t stand it.”

“does it hurt, baby?” lottie coos, her fingers now massaging your clit to alleviate some of the pain. “shh, you’re so tight around me. it’s so hard not to cum in you right away.”

anything but that. literally anything but that. you squirm like a worm in the dirt against your restraints, but your struggles are fruitless. you belong to shauna and lottie now. you’re just a present after all, a new pet for them to experiment on. they’d take care of you though. you just didn’t realize it yet.

“they feel so good,” lottie groans, eyes screwing shut and nails digging into your inner thighs. “fucking hell. I’m twitching.”

“you’re taking that big cock so good,” shauna praises. “look at how your pussy swallows it. you like the way it stretches your hole out?”

“oh it stretches all right,” lottie grunts. “fuck, you’re gonna make a perfect pet for me, baby. gonna be mine to use whenever i want? whenever i need some stress relief or entertainment?”

you don’t respond. you only sob quietly, accepting your future.

(sorry this one took so long i admit it was a work in progress for a bit!)

[little-raccoon-32]

Jealous

Pairing: Reader x Hotch (Criminal Minds)

Description: You have dinner with a district prosecutor after he promises to assist in the investigation of a killer. No big deal, right? Your boss certainly doesn’t seem to think so.

Reader is from the BAU. Younger woman/Older man. (Hotch gets jealous because he thinks he isn’t the older man in this scenario).

Gets a bit spicy at the end but not really explicit.

Inspired by the one scene from the show Younger. Props if you know what I’m talking about.

~*~

“Anything you want me to hand off to the chief, Pen?” You asked Garcia gently as you peeked into her office.

It was nearly midnight, but a late night at the Bureau was hardly unusual. Neither was your shyness to confront such a man like your boss.

The reason was the only thing that was slightly different.

Perhaps you were just trying to avoid the inevitable by asking Garcia (who pretty much did everything digitally anyways) if she needed anything done.

The blonde peeked up from her computer and smiled. “Nope,” she chirped, “Not yet at least. Just trying to finish up some loose ends.”

You nodded, almost disappointed. “Mhm. Got it. Have a good night then.”

“You, too, Hon!” She waved you off.

With a final goodbye, you clenched your Manila folders tightly and walked through the empty office where even Spencer had already gone home.

Only three people left.

You stood outside your boss’s door, unconsciously fixing your appearance. It was always nerve racking to be in front of such a handsome specimen - that man in particular.

Even since you first met him, you felt like a shy schoolgirl crushing on her teacher. Unfortunately, him being your boss and all, that wasn’t so far off from the truth.

But now you’re nervous for a whole other reason.

The team was working on a case, a serial killer, which was the usual. What was unusual was the suave, new district prosecutor who was ready to fight tooth and nail to help with the investigation.

You were pleasantly surprised at him being… actually oddly pleasant.

He was into the classics, funny yet also sweet. Not to mention he was rather handsome despite being several years older than you - Penelope gushed about that part. A true silver fox. (Meow~ as she added).

You liked him - but not the way he seemed to like you.

When you met him with the rest of the crew, he made sure to shake everyone’s hand. But when he got to you, he slowed down, staring at you in an almost surprised manner.

You offered up a tight lipped but sweet smile. He shook your hand, gaze and tone softening as he introduced himself to you.

It reminded you of when you first met Hotch. Only when your boss shook your hand, you almost collapsed on the spot.

When he held your hand for what seemed to be a bit too long, Hotch cleared his throat. “I believe there’s something you wanted to speak to us about,” he said firmly.

The prosecutor blinked and nodded, quickly leading the team into a meeting room with a cordial smile.

Throughout the case, this man and you shared a few nice conversations, even a few jokes. He was good company.

But out of the corner of your eye, you could almost always see your older boss watching you both like a hawk.

You’re a profiler - it’s literally your job to pick up on cues. But God forbid you be naïve so you wouldn’t even entertain the thought of him being jealous.

No, not the handsome, stoic, can simply roll up his sleeves and get any girl or far more experienced, confident, and put together woman than you.

(Seriously, those forearms of his are the equivalent to a medieval woman showing off her ankles).

Then the prosecutor asked you to dinner - a date.

At first you were unsure. After all, how could you be on a date without mourning the fact it wasn’t your boss across from you?

But he politely insisted, winking while saying he’d make your case the top priority in a light manner. Plus, he insisted on it being casual. So you took the bribe. Free food was free food and he promised to pay the check.

At least he was hot. (Daddy vibes as Penelope very helpfully added).

And admittedly… it was nice! You enjoyed it even - but more as a friend than a potential romantic partner.

But the life of a profiler is never smooth sailing and… well… Rossi happened to be meeting up with an old friend there as well - bringing Hotch as a plus one.

You’ll never forget meeting his eyes from across the dimly lit room. It was embarrassing, scandalous even.

You felt like a kid caught with their hand stuck in a cookie jar.

You desperately wanted to curl up and disappear. But apparently Hotch was a sadist as he approached the table in unfairly, cool, confident strides.

He looked almost angry, an idea confirmed to you when Rossi raised his whiskey glass in the air towards you with a smirk as if to say good luck.

“Y/N.”

“H-Hotch,” you nearly choked out.

Your date blinked but smiled. “What a surprise, chief. Hope you don’t mind me stealing one of your agents, do you?” He joked with a laugh, but when Hotch remained stoney faced, he quickly shut up.

“You’re having dinner… with the district prosecutor,” Hotch observed in an eerily calm manner.

His eyes were intense, staring right into your soul, particularly daring you to lie - but to also tell the truth as well.

Gulping a bit, you nodded slightly like an ashamed child. “Yeah. Uhm… y-yeah.” You mumbled awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

You watched as his jaw tensed, his eyes roaming your formal wear. “Right…” he said, “You look… nice,” he added.

“Oh. T-Thank you,” you smiled at him brightly. Your actual date had said the same thing, but frankly, Hotchner’s words meant so much more.

Hotch looked over at your date once more, a look of disdain in his eyes before turning back to you. “I apologize for interrupting,” your boss nodded towards you, “call me if you need me,” he forced out before walking back into the awaiting arms of Rossi.

Your date whistled. “Well that was a surprise. I didn’t know a person could be so intense,” he chuckled.

You forced out a tight lipped smile. “Yeah…” you mumbled, no longer that much hungry anymore.

“Actually, we’ve got a long day tomorrow and… you know, we should probably get some sleep,” you said, ignoring the guilt bubbling in your gut.

The prosecutor, albeit slightly disappointed, agreed and paid the check, him insisting on giving you a ride home.

You agreed. Unfortunately, as you walked out of the restaurant, your boss’s eyes followed with every step.

So that lead you to now, in front of your boss’s door, needing to simply give him a report but feeling like he was giving you a death sentence.

He was likely questioning your professionalism.

Sighing, you knocked on his door, only receiving a curt “come in” in reply.

You hesitantly opened the door, entering meekly as Aaron barely spared you a glance, not saying anything as he continued scanning the file in front of him.

“I finished the report you asked for,” you informed weakly. “Put it on my desk. Thanks,” he said.

Your eyes widened slightly. You knew him to be a no-nonsense man, but… he always seemed to treat you a bit more sensitively than the others. More gentle.

Perhaps that was because of your younger age but Reid wasn’t much younger than you and Hotch treated him like he was an annoying little orphan who clung to an older, grumpy man for a parental figure.

You did as he said, quickly putting the report on the edge of his desk and backing up. “Is there… anything else I can do for you, sir?” You mumbled unsurely.

This time, Hotch refused to even glance up. “No. Go home and get some rest,” he ordered blankly.

Once more, you blinked in surprise before furrowing eyebrows slightly.

It didn’t take a profiler, much less a genius, to tell something was bothering him - and you were almost 90% sure on what this was about.

“Is this about my date?” You asked bluntly, a burst of confidence taking even you by surprise.

Finally, Hotch looked up at you, taking a deep breath and leaning back against his chair with a blank look. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been… excuse me for saying this, petty since you saw me with that prosecutor. Why? Do you think it’s unprofessional or something?” You questioned, getting a bit riled up in the heat of the moment.

Hotch sighed. “It may not be the best look, but you’re a grown woman and you can make your own choices,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant but definitely sounding more irritated.

“…You sound angry.”

“Angry?” Hotch said, his put-together composure cracking. And frankly, good.

He stood up from his chair and let out a tired, almost pained sigh. “Angry? Yeah. Angry, stressed, annoyed, tired,” he paced the floor behind his desk, running his hand through his hair.

“You had dinner with a district prosecutor, so what?” He said more so to himself than you.

Hotch suddenly turned to you. “Are you dating him now? Was was it about him then?” He asked suddenly, making you feel like a victim of his brutal interrogations.

“W-What?” You shivered out. Hotch rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath before throwing his arms down at his side. “Damn it,” he cursed.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at your boss with wide, cautious eyes trying to remain calm. “I just think… you shouldn’t make a judgement before you know all the facts…”

Aaron Hotchner took yet another deep breath, slightly pacing back and forth once more. As he spoke, he seemed to only get angrier while taking a few steps closer to you.

“You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t know how we’re going to get this new unsub, I don’t know what I’m going to do about Strauss breathing down by neck, and I don’t know why you’re dating an older man in the criminal justice system who isn’t ME!”

…

The world seemed to pause for the both of you.

Your eyes were wide in shock as you stared in silence. Not only had the usually composed and stoic chief Hotchner just went low-key ballistic, but he also just confessed some kind of romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron huffed and brought himself back up to full height. He blinked at you, waiting for a response - expecting you to tell him off - when the door suddenly opened.

“Hey~!” Penelope greeted sweetly as she waltzed through the door with a smile. You and Aaron only had the brain capacity to spare her a glance.

The quirky woman got in between you, but not so to obscure your vision of each other. “Sorry to interrupt but I finished these papers and I really want to go home now. I mean, beauty sleep and all,” she laughed as she placed the stack of papers over Hotch’s desk.

Penelope backed up with a simple grin, looking between you and Hotch, waiting for a reply. He only murmured a stiff ‘thank you’ as both of you avoided eye contact.

The woman blinked before her own eyes went wide. “Oh… OH. Oh, I am so, so sorry,” Penelope babbled as she backed up to the door. “I-I’m just gonna… go. Pretend I wasn’t even here, okay?” She said as she reached the door, giving you a quick thumbs up before likely scurrying away.

You and Hotch continued to stand across from each other, unable to speak or even meet the other’s gaze.

Finally, Aaron spoke with a sigh. “So…” he mumbled, realizing the extensive HR visit he may soon be receiving.

“So…?” You echoed back, “what now?” You drew out slowly.

The man closed his eyes, messaging the bridge of his nose before finally, finally turning his gaze to you.

“Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and… we can forget all this ever happened… mostly for my sake,” he muttered the last part.

You turned your eyes towards the floor for a minute. Perhaps it was his confession that a sudden burst of confidence erupted but eventually you managed to speak up.

“I can’t do that…” You whispered softly as Hotch peeked up at you from the hand covering his face. “Aaron, I… I want you but… is… this even allowed?” Probably not.

But hearing your own confirmation, Hotch stepped forwards. “Y/N. I don’t even care.”

With that, he practically rushed you (not that you were complaining) and fiercely, with only a fierceness of a man barely able to keep a lid on his desires, pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Your bodies molded against each other perfectly, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head to assist in keeping your lips to his. His other arm wrapped around you to eliminate any dreaded, unnecessary and unwanted space between the two of you that had long outstayed its welcome.

One of your own arms came to wrap around his neck encouragingly as your opposite hand rested on the side of his face, his faint stubble brushing against your palm.

In a tangle of limbs, he moved you around and back against the desk until your bottom was atop of the dark wood.

In an almost cruel but necessary manner, Aaron pulled away from your lips for a moment. “Say you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“Please don’t,” you nearly begged him (but hey, why have shame when this absolute specimen of a man was caging you in?) “Aaron, I want you. I really do.”

Aaron huffed and desperately loosened his tie, throwing it uncaringly somewhere in the room. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that from you,” he said before locking lips once more to your delight.

~*~BOUNUS~*~

“The ship has sailed, I repeat, the ship has sailed!” Penelope squealed as she crouched ‘stealthily’ outside Hotch’s office.

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s sailed, babygirl?” Derek questioned worriedly over the phone, the grogginess of sleep leaving his voice.

“The USS (Y/N)ner! Oh my god, I can the desk moving…!” Penelope babbled in near manic delirium of joy.

Derek dragged a hand over his face. “No kidding… it happened?”

“It finally happened!” Penelope squealed once more, “My ship has left the port,” she said before going dead silent at a sudden noise of pleasure behind the wall she was crouched next to.

“Was that…?”

“Oh my God, they’re wasting no time whatsoever. Y/N, you go girl!”

“Damn,” Derek breathed out as those certain noises only got louder. Seems they forgot Garcia was there… again.

Penelope gasped. “It’s getting spicy~…” she said.

“Babygirl, get outta there.”

“I know, I know.”

“Penelope, now!”

“I’m going!”

“Guess we’re getting new HR buddies.”

~*~

Just a little one shot because Hotch is unfairly pretty and the Younger TV series really works with this pairing. Hope you enjoyed. 👍

[greenxgloss]

A House Full of Strangers (KNJ)

18+ MDNI

Pairing: FearfulAttachment!Namjoon x Yearning!Y/n

Summary: When Namjoon visits his cousin in a quiet town, an unexpected friendship sparks between you. Over one summer, it deepens—until timing, and a new relationship, drives a quiet wedge between you. Years later, fate brings you back together during a stormy night in the city, where unspoken feelings and unresolved tension finally resurface.

Themes: Protected sex, emotional tension, past heartbreak, pining, slight (very very slight) jealousy, brief emotional distancing and unresolved conflict

Word Count: 5k

You weren’t even sure whose idea it was to throw a birthday party for Daniel in the first place—he didn’t like cake, crowds, or the vague stress of small talk—but somehow his backyard was full of half-drunk locals and the scent of barbecued tofu, and you were tucked into a sun-bleached lawn chair nursing a fizzy kombucha like it might save your life.

And then he walked in.

Tall. Broad. A little too clean-looking for this dusty small town. City-born for sure. His hair was a soft brown under the string lights, and his shirt was slightly wrinkled like he’d folded it five minutes before showing up and called it good enough.

He glanced around, clearly trying to make sense of the guest list—then muttered, mostly to himself but just loud enough to carry, “Is it just me or does everyone here look like they kind of hate each other?”

You laughed before you could stop yourself—an unexpected, genuine sound that came from your gut, not just your mouth.

His head turned at the sound.

“You agree, huh?” he said, smile crooked and curious, like he hadn’t expected a witness. “Did I offend your friend or your ex or something?”

You shook your head. “Nah, just the girl who brought gluten-free beer. So basically the worst person here.”

That made him laugh—low and warm. “I’m Namjoon,” he said, holding out a hand. “Cousin of the birthday boy. Temporary townie.”

You took his hand. His grip was careful. “Temporary?”

“Just here for the summer,” he said, giving the backyard a once-over like he already had regrets. “Or until Daniel starts feeding me meatloaf.”

“Good luck,” you said. “He made me lentil loaf once. Still recovering.”

From that moment, you became friends. Effortlessly. Days passed, then weeks. You’d meet at the lake, legs hanging off the dock, tossing pebbles into the water and letting conversations wander. He was smart—brilliant, really—but never made you feel like he needed to prove it. Just warm, slightly awkward, poetic without trying to be. You joked about astrology, smoked exactly one joint in a parked car while laughing over conspiracy theories, and fought over who made the better playlist.

What started as playful flirting and stolen glances became something more. Not romantic. Not yet. But undeniably charged. You'd both pretend not to notice how close your knees sat, or the way his eyes lingered on your lips when you talked. Neither of you made a move.

Until you did. But not in the way he expected.

Six months in, after he’d extended his stay, gotten a job at the local froyo spot (you teased him about the apron, he let you), you told him—bright-eyed, hesitant—that you were dating someone.

His name was Ri. And just like that, something shifted in Namjoon. Slightly. Quietly. But enough for you to feel it.

He stopped finishing his thoughts. Stopped texting first. And when you brought Ri around, Namjoon always seemed to have somewhere else to be.

A year passed.

And then he was gone.

You didn’t say goodbye. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to. And life kept going, the way it always does.

About a year after that, you moved out to the city for work, thinking this was your big break. Ri had broken up with you, and you thought this was more of a reason to leave town; nothing was there for you anymore.

On moving day, you ran into none other than Namjoon. The brief interaction between the two of you taught you that he lives in the apartment just upstairs, and you made an awkward joke about how you hope he walks lightly, but it didn't land, and after that, you never really spoke again.

3 years pass and your ‘new’ job has gone nowhere, you still haven't really made any friends in he city and you’ve become a homebody. You’ve been lying to everyone back home about life in the city in fear of disappointing them.

You’d almost forgotten Namjoon lived above you.

Well—forgotten wasn’t the right word. You just stopped trying to remember. After a year of distant nods in the hallway, a shared mailbox area filled with silence, and the sound of his footsteps overhead like a heartbeat you couldn’t reach, Namjoon had become more myth than man again. A ghost in your ceiling.

It had been three years since you last spoke to him. You weren’t even sure if he still liked froyo.

Today, the storm had started slow, but now it was biblical. Rain lashed against your window like it had something to prove, and the power went out with an audible thunk that made you jump. Your apartment was cast in shadows, candles flickering like nervous thoughts.

You were halfway through lighting another when you heard it: sneakers padding up the hall and stop outside your front door.

A knock.

You hesitated. You knew that knock. It wasn’t the UPS guy. It wasn’t your neighbor with the weird cat. He still knocked like he did four years ago. It was—

Namjoon found himself in quite the predicament. He had just arrived home, his phone completely dead, and with a storm rapidly approaching, he had hurried back hoping to charge it enough to get him through the evening until his usual 10:30 PM bedtime.

In his haste, however, he underestimated his own strength. As he jammed his key into the deadbolt, a soft metallic snap echoed ominously — the key had broken off inside the lock. Staring down at the fragment in his hand, then back at the deadbolt, and once again at the now-useless shard, Namjoon let out a low groan and bowed his head in exasperation.

But then, an idea struck.

Without wasting another second, he sprinted up the stairs to the rooftop and made his way to the fire escape, descending hastily toward the window of his apartment. By now, the rain had intensified into a relentless downpour. Peering through the glass, he immediately noticed the telltale signs of a power outage: the digital clock was dark, and the small red standby light on the TV was no longer glowing. He was too late.

Still, he needed to get inside. He attempted to lift the window, only to nearly smack his face against the glass when it refused to move. Soaked and breathless, he leaned in closer and spotted the problem — the latch on the inside was locked.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with frustration, a lump forming in his throat.

Then he remembered: your place. It might not have been the best idea — for all he knew, you wouldn’t even answer the door — but at that moment, it felt like his only option. With no other choice, Namjoon made his way back down the stairs, took a steadying breath, and knocked.

-

“Hey,” came a voice, muffled but unmistakable. “…It’s Namjoon.”

You opened the door.

He was soaked. Absolutely drenched, water dripping from his hair and jacket like he’d fallen in a river, not just battled the storm. He looked ridiculous. And miserable. And beautiful in that unshakeable way he always had.

He blinked at you, sheepish. “I, uh. Locked myself out.”

Your eyes flicked over his soaked sneakers, the busted umbrella in his hand, the bend in his key that stuck awkwardly out of his other. “You okay?”

“Not really,” he laughed, breath fogging. “Tried the roof. Fire escape. Window’s locked. And I think the universe is finally done playing subtle.”

You stepped aside.

“Come in.”

Namjoon stepped inside, shaking like a storm dog, water puddling behind him. Your candlelight caught the edge of his jaw, the collarbone peeking from his drenched shirt. He looked around your apartment like he hadn’t imagined it—like it was more real than memory had allowed.

He stood awkwardly at the door while you walked off to look for a towel and clothes he could borrow. He could smell the scent of old books and the air freshener you’ve used since you met him. “It smells like your old room in here. You still read a lot, I bet?” he called out as he continued to look around.

Just then you walked back out to him and handed him a sweatshirt and a towel. You knew wearing sweatshirts three sizes too big would come in handy at some point. You had no clue a man twice your size from your past would be the one who needed it.

He pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the ground to dry himself off. 

Fuck he’s gotten bigger. Has he been working out. He did use to obsess over biking, maybe he still does. He looks like he does a whole lot more that jus biking somet–

"You gonna keep gawking, or are you gonna help me dry off?" he asked, voice low and teasing—just enough to make your cheeks heat.

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to collect yourself, snatching the towel from his hands and swatting his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

Still, you didn’t leave. You stood close enough to feel the residual heat rolling off him, your hand moving in slow, distracted strokes as you ran the towel across the back of his neck and over his shoulders.

He shivered—not from cold, but from the proximity.

“You didn’t have to come here,” you said after a moment, quieter now.

“Didn’t really think about it,” he admitted, still not meeting your gaze. “Just… wanted to be here.”

The rain pounded against the windows in heavy sheets. Your heartbeat echoed it, just as relentless.

He turned to face you fully now, wearing your sweatshirt like it belonged to him, his hair damp and curling at the ends. He looked softer like this—less guarded.

And maybe it was the storm, or the closeness, or the sheer intimacy of sharing space like this—but something shifted.

“I didn’t mean to show up like this,” he said, his voice gentler than you expected. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

You stared at him for a second too long, unsure of whether your next breath would calm you or set everything on fire.

“You’re always welcome here,” you murmured, barely audible.

The tension hummed—quiet but undeniable.

“Yeah?” he asked, taking a step closer. “Even if I’m soaked, stranded, and mildly pathetic?”

You cracked a small smile, reaching up to ruffle his damp hair. “Especially then.”

And for the first time that night, he smiled back—slow, crooked, and entirely disarming.

“I should’ve come sooner,” he said quietly, voice low.

You crossed your arms. “Three years sooner?”

He looked at you then—really looked at you, like he was seeing the version of you that had grown from that summer girl. The one who had laughed too loudly at his cousin’s party. The one who used to sing out of key in his passenger seat. The one who didn’t know how to say goodbye when he left.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted.

You swallowed. “You didn’t have to say anything. You just had to show up.”

“I’m here now.” he paused, probably thinking that this maybe wasnt a good idea after all. “I also wasn’t sure if Ri was living here with you.” he padded to the bathroom to ring out his clothes.

“We broke up before i moved here.”

“I figured when i never saw him around.” He cleared his throat and hung his shirt on the towel rack. 

You looked up at his buzzed hair, thinking about how much you missed his beautiful length. “Your hairs shorter.” 

“Memories in long hair. Not good ones.”

“Of us?”

“What i wished was us.” His voice was low but you could hear the shame he carried. He really does feel guilty for leaving. 

He broke the silence first.

"You remember that party?" he asked, almost as if reading your mind. “The one where you said you only showed up for the cake?”

You turned toward him, lips twitching. “I still stand by that. It was good cake.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That was a weird night. Didn’t think we’d end up... whatever this is.”

You met his gaze then, and something flickered between you. Not quite anger. Not quite longing. But a potent mix of both.

“You could’ve said something,” you said softly, surprising even yourself.

He looked at you like you’d just dropped a glass on the floor. “So could you.”

“I was scared,” you admitted.

“So was I,” he said. “Still am.”

That landed heavier than either of you expected. You felt it settle in your chest, sharp and warm.

You exhaled, stepping back until your spine gently brushed the wall. “So now what? You show up at my door soaked and storm-tossed, and we just pretend none of that matters?”

He laughed bitterly, raking a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t plan this. I wasn’t trying to—” He cut himself off. “I just wanted to see you.”

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t know what we are,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “But I know what we almost were. And I can’t stop thinking about that.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve, your eyes burning with the kind of frustration that only came from wanting something you didn’t know how to ask for.

The distance between you was still small. So small.

And still, neither of you moved.

Because whatever this was—it wasn’t ready to be named.

Not yet.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking into a sharp exhale, thick with frustration. “That’s not fair. You left, Namjoon. You left, and when I finally moved out here—when I finally got brave enough to start over in the same city—you’ve barely said more than five words to me in three years. And now, suddenly, you're here? Would you even be standing in this apartment if your key hadn’t snapped off in the lock and the sky hadn’t decided to drown you out of hiding?”

You sighed, the kind of sigh that didn’t just carry breath, but disappointment years in the making. Your hands raked through your hair, not to fix it—just to do something. To stop yourself from shaking. “You’re real, Joon. You’ve always been real. You never stalled, never bullshitted. That’s why I liked you. That’s why I—” You stopped yourself.

“So why are you bullshitting now?”

Namjoon didn’t answer. Not with words. Instead, he busied himself with the mundane: wringing out his socks and laying those out on the side of the tub. Like it would buy him time.

But you weren't 20 anymore. You wouldn’t be pacified by silence or half-excuses dressed as distractions.

And deep down, you knew—that was exactly what he was trying to do.

The candlelight flickered, casting a pale yellow glow down the hallway. You stood there, arms crossed, picking at your cuticles and sighing hard as the rain battered against the windows like it was trying to echo your heartbeat.

He was stalling again. You knew him well enough to recognize the way he needed to breathe, to retreat and find words that felt safe. But this wasn’t the time for safe.

“Namjoon,” you called, voice low but steady.

The door creaked open. He stepped out barefoot—damp still clinging to the hem of his jeans. He looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Like he’d been carrying something for a long time and finally had nowhere left to put it.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” he said, voice raw with honesty. “I just... I didn’t know how to stay.”

You blinked, stunned into silence by how simple and devastating that sounded.

“You didn’t know how to stay,” you repeated, slowly. “But I did. I waited. I texted. I asked about you. I tried to keep something—anything.”

He winced. “I know.”

“And you ignored me,” you continued, a bite to your words now. “For three years. Like I didn’t matter. Like you could just cut me out clean and walk away.”

“I thought it would be easier,” he said quietly. “For you.”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “For me? You thought silence was easier than honesty?”

Namjoon stepped forward, tentative but deliberate. “I thought telling you I was in love with you, and leaving anyway, would’ve hurt you more. And if i did anyway then what? You were dating Ri.”

The air thinned.

You froze, words caught somewhere between your chest and your throat because you knew he was right. You knew that, of course, he didn't know what to do. Of course, he panicked and left without a word. But you also knew that you’d have stuck around anyway if he was the one who got a girlfriend.

He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, exhaling like it was physically painful. “You were always the one thing that felt real. Everything else... The stupid parties Dan threw, His friends, the pressure—I could compartmentalize all of that. But not you. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I scared you?” you asked, incredulous.

He nodded. “Imagine searching your whole life for someone that never made excuses, who took what they want and after what– 23 years you find it– the real thing, not some trick. Not a facade… i panicked because i didnt know what to do with it. You made me want to stay. And I couldn’t. Not then.” 

The irony is that you're 24 now. You are standing in front of the first no-bullshit person you’ve ever met, but it doesn't scare you. What scares you is that he might get cold feet and leave again.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at him while everything you’d carried—the loneliness, the anger, the what-ifs—pressed against the edges of your ribcage like a dam ready to crack.

“I didn’t want you to love me,” you said finally. “I just wanted you to choose me.”

Namjoon stepped closer. Close enough that you could see the guilt in the curve of his mouth, the sadness in the way his eyes flickered to yours and didn’t flinch away.

“I’m choosing you now,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”

Your breath hitched.

There it was—too late, too early, exactly on time.

And you had no idea what to do with it.

That’s when you began crying. Not hard, not ugly, not a sob—but a soft sniffle, an involuntary sound you tried and failed to stifle. It wasn’t a single, cinematic tear either. They came steadily, like something old and aching inside you had finally split open. Like every word you’d swallowed these past few years had liquefied into salt and memory.

“I miss you, Joonie,” you whispered, your voice trembling just enough to fracture the air between you.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. He crossed the space between you in a heartbeat, arms wrapping around you with the kind of urgency that said me too, even before he spoke. You pressed your face to his chest, and he held you like he’d been waiting—starving—for this closeness just as long as you had.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, the room humming with quiet and rain.

Then, gently, he tipped your chin up with one hand—thumb calloused, soft with care—and made you look at him. His other hand rose to your cheek, wiping away a tear with a touch so reverent it made your chest ache.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice low but sure, like he was swearing something into the marrow of you. “I mean, unless the plumbing explodes again or I catch on fire. Then I might leave. Briefly. But I’ll come right back.”

You let out a breathy laugh through your tears, the sound catching at the edges, tangled in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” he said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, though his eyes stayed soft. “I should’ve said it before. I should’ve said a lot of things. But let me start here: I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I was silent, even when I was stupid.”

You blinked, and another tear slipped down. He caught that one too.

“I missed you so much it made everything else feel... grey,” he whispered.

And then he leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You didn’t. You tilted your head instinctively, eyes fluttering closed, and felt the warmth of his lips brush yours—a kiss so soft it felt like a memory, or maybe a promise. It lingered just long enough to burn.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“You still smell like cinnamon tea and old books,” he murmured, teasing affection laced in his tone. “God, I missed that.”

You huffed a soft laugh through your nose and finally let yourself hold him back.

You didn’t move at first.

Just stood there, holding each other in the soft hum of your apartment, his forehead still pressed to yours, his breath still warm against your lips. It was quiet, but your heart was loud. Every inch of you trembled—not from uncertainty, but from the kind of tension that builds over years of silence, unresolved feelings, and the ache of missing someone you never stopped needing.

Your fingers found the hem of his sweatshirt. You didn’t ask. Just tugged. He raised his arms wordlessly, letting you peel it from his body. His skin was still damp from the storm, warm from the inside out, and his eyes searched yours like he needed permission one more time.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You answered by taking a step closer and guiding his hand to the small of your back, your lips brushing against his again, this time with intent. No hesitation. You kissed him like he was yours. Like he had been yours—once. Like you could reclaim something lost in time.

Namjoon groaned softly, the sound vibrating through you as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed your back, then your waist, pulling you flush against him. Every brush of his mouth, every soft sigh between kisses, made your skin feel tighter, needier.

He lifted you without effort, as if he already knew exactly where you wanted to be. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he carried you through the narrow hallway, lips never parting from yours, only pausing to murmur your name like it was a prayer.

When your back hit the bed, his body followed, blanketing you with warmth and weight. His hands moved with reverence, memorizing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips. You touched him like you were relearning him, like tracing a poem you hadn’t read in years but never forgot.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered against your collarbone, then again between kisses on your chest. “I thought about this so many times and it never... it never felt this real.”

You tugged at his belt and he laughed softly, breathlessly. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“I thought you wanted me to tell you how i feel.” He smirked playfully.

Clothes disappeared in pieces, dropped to the floor without ceremony. What mattered was the way he kissed you now—slow, like he didn’t want to rush a second of it. His mouth on your throat, his hands caressing your thighs, his words murmured between the soft rhythm of your breaths.

“You’re still the best thing I’ve ever stumbled into,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours again. “Even if it took me years to stop being an idiot,” he took the condom you handed him from your side table and rolled it on.

You smiled, eyes shining in the dark. “Less talking, more making up for lost time.”

His chuckle vibrated through his chest as he adjusted his hips, sliding inside you in one smooth motion. You both gasped—his name on your lips, yours on his. No frantic pace, just a slow, It was an aching rhythm that felt more like worship than sex. Each thrust of his hips was deliberate, his body moving in tune with yours, like he’d memorized you in a past life and was rediscovering every note. He didn’t rush, didn’t demand—he gave, patiently, attentively, reverently. Like this wasn’t just a moment, but a culmination. A return.

Namjoon moved like he was listening—to your body, to your breath, to everything you weren't saying aloud. His hand cradled the back of your thigh, guiding your leg to rest higher along his hip, opening you just slightly more to him. It sent a shiver down your spine, the way he adjusted you so gently, still keeping the rhythm steady and deep, like each movement was meant to say, I’m here. I never forgot.

Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist now, your heels pressing lightly into the curve of his lower back with each slow roll of his hips. It was instinctive, that grounding touch—holding him close, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid this might vanish too.

Namjoon leaned down to press a trail of kisses along your throat, slow and lingering, his lips brushing over your pulse point, your collarbone, the edge of your jaw. Between each kiss, he whispered your name softly, or sighed, or let out a low, breathy moan that vibrated against your skin. It was messy in the most tender way—half-kisses against damp skin, shared gasps and stuttering breaths.

When he moaned again, it wasn’t loud. It was muffled and low, almost like he didn’t mean for it to slip out. It happened right after you clenched around him—a soft, involuntary reaction to how good he felt, how full, how there he was—and the sound made your head fall back against the pillow with a soft whimper of your own.

His pace picked up slightly then, still not frenzied, just purposeful. Like he’d found exactly what made you melt and was chasing it now, chasing you. He adjusted the angle of his hips just enough to pull another gasp from you, and when your nails dragged lightly down his back, he hissed, lips pausing against your neck.

“Shit,” he murmured, face contorting. “You feel so good—wet and warm.”

Your eyes met his in the dim light, and it was there again—the ache. The longing. The years of silence and missed connections that were now being rewritten by the way he held you, filled you, moved with you.

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away a tear that had slipped free, even now. “Still with me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your hand finding the back of his neck. “Don’t stop,” you breathed.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

And he didn’t. He kept moving inside you, body pressed tight to yours, every inch of skin against skin, breath tangled, limbs intertwined. He thrust with more certainty now, each slow grind coaxing more soft moans from your lips, until the room was filled with the quiet, rhythmic sound of two people trying to make sense of years apart using only their bodies.

His fingers slipped down between you, his thumb finding your clit and pressing down then moving in time with the thrusts of his hips, your whole body arched up against him.

“Joon,” you cried out, more a gasp than a name, but he heard it. He swallowed it with a kiss as your body began to tighten beneath him, that pressure rising fast and deep.

“That's it, baby, you’re doing so good, so perfect. Cum for me.”

And you did.

You shattered beneath him with a soft cry, your body clenching tight around him, your hands gripping his arms like you were afraid to fall. But Namjoon was there—holding you, kissing you through it, whispering your name like a promise.

He followed right after, hips stuttering against yours, breath catching in your ear as he spilled inside you with a low, choked moan that you would carry with you forever.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

He stayed inside you, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavy, chests rising and falling in sync. His hands found yours and held them tightly, grounding you both in the moment—sweaty, tangled, bare, and finally not apart.

-

Tangled together, you rested on his chest. Blanket pooled at your hips and the rain still coming down hard outside but all od the sudden the lights cam back on and the two of you looked at each other and chuckled softly, “i guess the universe really was working for us.” You inhaled deeply as you curled further into his side. “Stay until your clothes is dry? I can get your apartment door open with my tool box.”

“You have a tool box?” He asked, probably surprised obviously because you’ve never been the type to get your hands dirty with grease and a wrench. “Every home should have a tool box, joon. I picked up a few things from–”

“Ri.. yeah lets maybe get used to never saying that name again.” He stretched before holding you tighter. “I’d love to never bring that douche up again.” You pressed kisses to his chest.

“Wanna go again?” You asked. “Yup.” He answered briefly before pulling you on top of him. 

“Might as well take advantage of being with you again right?” You smiled as you trailed your hands down his chest. 

“You’re greedy,” he bit his lip.

You grinned, settling over him like you belonged there—because, somehow, you always had. “And you like it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands skating down your thighs. “Yeah. I really do.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breaths syncing, your bodies pressed close in the quiet glow of lamplight. Outside, the rain had finally stopped—leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt like a new beginning.

You looked down at him, brushing your thumb along his jaw..

“Namjoon?”

“Mm?” He looked up at you with glossy puppy eyes, the ones that you adored.

“You’re not leaving again, right?”

His expression softened completely. “No,” he whispered. “Not unless you tell me to.”

You didn’t.

And then you kissed him like that answer meant everything.

Because it did.

a/n i lowkey wanna make this into a longer series and really go into detail about everything lmk if you guys are into that idea

➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ G Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

[heyimkana]

i have an idea about teacher! Sung Jinwoo x teacher!Reader where they both teach in the same class and then like their students like basically ship them together and then one day when they both come to class together, the students make a prank that makes reader and jinwoo kiss (I would've made this but im like, lazy to write rn plus I have a bunch of other ideas 😭)

OOOOOOH WORKPLACE LOVERS TEACHER!JINWOO X TEACHER!READER 😩

in my head, reader definitely falls for him first—i mean who wouldn't right? just imagine teacher jinwoo... all dressed in black pants, crisp white button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. god, maybe he even wears glasses 😩 he's so articulate when he speaks, his mannerisms poised and polite, and he doesn't talk a lot but whenever he does, people will listen not because they have to but because they want to. he has unmatched charisma, very strict with his students when it comes to grades and assignments but is also very kind and nurturing at the same time. the male students think he's cool, the female students drools all over his shoes but jinwoo stays nonchalant as always, unfazed, unbothered.

then there's a little bit shy teacher!reader who dedicates all her life for her students, always going home late at night, trying to come up with new programs and schedules so they can improve more. she works hard, takes her job very seriously and jinwoo secretly admires her for that from afar. he doesn't try to date her or anything (i don't think that thought will ever cross his mind cause he's always so serious and he doesn't want to bring romance into his workplace), but before he knows it, he's grown protective of her and he wants to take care of her as best as he can, as friends (or so he thought lol).

he often shows his affection by bringing her coffee whenever he makes one for himself, or sometimes staying late just so he can offer to walk her home (because it's getting dark and he's worried about her safety). sometimes he brings two umbrellas to school when it's about to rain because he knows she always forgets to bring one with her. jinwoo always carries an umbrella with him regardless what the forecast tells him, so one time, when it suddenly poured, they walked together, sharing his umbrella and he made sure that she stayed dry even if it meant his shoulder would get drenched (and it did but he didn't mind at all).

so yeah naturally the students would start gossiping about them. one day, during the school festival, they made this fun booth called the "Love Fortune Booth" like a fun attraction where guests can come in pairs and get a "fortune" from the magical love machine. the booth is, of course, rigged. every pair that enters is basically forced to kiss or hug or make a love confession before they can walk free from the booth. the door will only open once they get to do the dare.

a student shouts "teachers should test it first for quality control!" and then they push jinwoo and reader into the booth. jinwoo is just like "these kids i swear 😑" but then he sees reader looking all flustered and nervous (and maybe excited?) and he can't help feeling a tiny bit nervous too.

the machine says something like: "Fate has spoken. A perfect match has been found. The bond shall only be sealed with a kiss!"

jinwoo huffs, "well, i guess the machine works just fine."

reader can't even meet him in the eyes, saying "yeah" under her breath

before he knows it, he's glancing at her lips—they're red and pretty and glossy and—he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. "We... don't have to do it, you know."

"I-I know."

but neither of them moves away.

she then shyly looks at him. "it says that... we have to do it if we want to unlock the door."

jinwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair "this is a trap."

but then he glances at her again and this time he catches her staring at his lips (just for a second) and his heart starts to pound. "Do you..." he can't even finish it. he doesn't know if he should.

she swallows nervously, heartbeat escalating. "i-i won't mind if... you're okay with it."

and something inside him snaps. his realization dawns on him. he wants this. no, he's been wanting to kiss her for so long. and so he leans in, cups her cheek in his hand, and he kisses her. Sweet, tender, tentative at first but immediately melts into the kiss when he feels her responding. they kiss languidly, deep but never too far (he tries to keep himself under control). when they break free, she's left a bit dazed, breathing out, "that... was for the prank?"

jinwoo glides his thumb across her lips, still captivated by how pretty, how sweet they taste. "No," he says quietly. "That was for me."

[holyhadesimweird]

the butterfly effect

photo from rorokonaa on twitter

captain curly x reader

trigger warnings : mentions of attempted sa/abuse (not really specified) and jimmy

summary : a butterfly effect in which curly steps up the moment he can after finding out something happened to you, causing the events of the game to never happen.

note : i have not written fanfic in many years, i'm so sorry and this is warning my writing may be dogass still or even worse than it was before. anyways, enjoy!

the moment anya speaks your name when informing him something happened to one of the crew mates, he runs. his heart has never beat so fast in his life, curly thinks he may die if he doesn't reach you.

as he runs to the cockpit, curly's mind races to an image of what anya's face looked like when she told him something happened to you. that bruise on her face scared the shit out of him.

was jimmy a bad man this entire time? after knowing him for so many years curly wants to doubt it, but the image of anya and knowing you were in danger because of jimmy doesn't allow him to even doubt that jimmy is a horrible man.

as he runs, daisuke and sawnsea see him and decide to run after him. neither of them are fast enough to keep up with curly's desperate running and are left behind.

curly can hear jimmy yelling and your sobs as he approaches the cockpit, making him push forward and into the cockpit when the door opens.

"what did you do to her?!" curly yells as he pushes jimmy away from your curled up frame in the corner of the room.

"nothing at all captain, i came to check on her-" jimmy is cut off as curly's fist makes contact with his jaw.

"bull-fucking-shit you liar. anya came directly to me after you hit her and i could hear you yelling at her. if you move, i will kick your teeth in." curly threatened.

it was at this moment daisuke and swansea's footsteps could be heard approaching the cockpit. as they reached the doorway, anya' lighter footsteps could be heard as well.

"what in the fuck is happening?" swansea questions.

"swansea, pick him up and take him to the kitchen. do not let him out of your sight until i come see you. daisuke, stay with him and watch too." curly orders.

"but curly-" jimmy tries.

"no, we're gonna talk about what you did. there will be a punishment." curly states as swansea grabs jimmy, not saying a word as him and daisuke take him to the kitchen.

"thank you for helping. i- i- didn't know what else to do." anya says quietly, kneeling down beside you. your sobs have quieted down but it broke curly's heart seeing you like this.

"thank you so much curly, i owe you so much. he- he kept trying to do things to me but i kept fighting and he hit me again right before you came in. i think he-" you rambled.

"listen to me, you don't owe me anything. i'll kick his teeth in before he goes near you again. i'm so sorry he-." curly kneels. he takes your hand and anya quietly gets up to leave for you two to have a moment alone.

"i was so scared i was going to lose you. i'm so sorry this happened and i wish i could go back in time to protect you. i'm here now and i won't let anything else happen to you. you're the most important thing to me and i can't bear losing you." curly rushes and stands up. "i'm going to make things right."

anya is stood outside of the room and makes her way inside to stay with you as curly marches towards the kitchen.

once he arrives in the kitchen he can see that swansea and daisuke have tied up jimmy who is yelling and trashing against the ropes. making his way to where they all are, curly decided on what to do.

"shut up and listen to me jimmy. you do not deserve to be free after this. you will be locked, barricaded, i don't care, in your room until this job is finished. it does not matter that pony express is kicking the can, because you'll be rotting right along with them in prison when we get back on earth. i'll make sure of it." curly spits out to jimmy.

"you don't deserve to be captain, i was going to be the hero in this story and you ruined it! i had a plan!" jimmy exclaims. "i was going to-" jimmy was cut off as swansea stands up from where he was sitting.

"you're insane. daisuke, come help me." swansea says eerily calmly.

when curly finally finds you after locking jimmy up in his room and leaving daisuke and swansea to guard. you're in your quarters, on your bed sleeping with anya sitting next to you, clearly on edge as she jumps when curly enters your room.

"thank you anya, for everything." curly says, offering her a smile and a hug.

"she's my friend and you both mean the world to me. when i realized i wouldn't be able to fight him off and help her, i knew i had to get help. i wish i could've done more." she says.

"you did your best and did the right thing. without you, who knows what could've happened. i'm just extremely sorry i didn't believe you at first when you tried warning me about him." he thanks and apologizes.

"i'll leave you two alone. goodnight captain."

curly takes a seat where anya was sitting and takes your hand.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

"curly? curly!"

curly swears he hears someone call his name and blinks awake. the sight in front of him is other worldly and he wants to bask in it forever. you look beautiful despite everything that happened recently and he's happy to see you smiling at him.

"hey big man. thank you for protecting me, i don't know how to thank you. anya told me what you did with..... him. thank you." you thank him.

"it's the least i could do. you're important to me and i would do anything for you." he says sincerely. "...listen, i don't want to ruin this, but i have to go check on something in the cockpit. i'll be right back."

"of course, i can join you for the walk. but i might have to stay behind a little bit." you say.

"that is perfectly fine. we can go at your pace. i have to keep an eye on the controls for the next day, autopilot detected a possibility of needing course correction. let's go make sure we don't crash."

grabbing your hand, you and curly slowly but surely make your way to the cockpit to contact the company and to correct the autopilot route.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

it takes time, but by the end of the tulpar's journey, you are able to navigate the entirety of the ship without being scared.

you and curly become closer and he attempts to have a romantic dinner with you to ask you to be his significant other, but it doesn't go according to plan. however, you two love joking and talking about how the night you became an official couple.

having jimmy on the ship is hard for the entire crew for the rest of the journey, but when landing on earth and seeing law enforcement ready to take jimmy away, it feels like a weight has been lifted from the entire crew.

[snoopysilk]

Hiho >-<, could you write what mundane life would be like after years of relationship with modern!mizu? She and the reader living the life that all sapphics dream of, even with a mutual marriage proposal at the end?

🤍 domestic life with mizu 🤍

•domestic!mizu, established relationship, engagement, fluff, chubby femme reader implied, loser!mizu if you squint, brief smut mentioned, no beta we die like men, post college au

🐾 i love this ask sm… ty for the request my love, i hope this is up to standards <3 mizu deserves this kind of life so bad ugh ilh

life with mizu, since you'd both left college, had been so much better than anything you'd planned for yourself as a kid. it was peaceful, quiet, serene.

after college, mizu had gotten a job as a tattoo artist and she was happy. she earnt enough, and she actually enjoyed her job! and combined with your job you both make enough to live comfortably, you can afford the good things.

you'd moved into a little house on the outskirts of the city, two bedrooms so you each could have space when you needed it—because couples with their own bedrooms last longer and sleep better, supposedly—but you both end up in the same bed almost every night either way.

you did most of the decorating, mizu did all the heavy work. she built the furniture and hung pictures and lugged in all the boxes when you moved in. she'd gotten multiple headaches stressing over it all, but the smile on your face when she was done made it so worth it.

your house is organised, but not... too organised. it's clean and tidy, but it looks lived in. there are small details that make it clear people live here; mizu's half finished sketches on the coffee table, the dishes that are always on the drying rack, the occasional sock on the floor. without these details it would probably be uncanny.

the walls are littered with pictures of the both of you, framed and hung neatly with pride. mizu puts posters up and so do you, and there's the occasional drawing pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen, magnets on the fridge with sticky notes and grocery lists. it feels personal, loving.

you and mizu have a routine. wake up, pretend you aren't procrastinating for ten minutes before getting out of bed. mizu showers, so quickly you'd barely think she did, and makes breakfast—the only meal she can make—while letting you get ready in peace. she gets ready after breakfast. you both kiss each other goodbye and go to work, and when you come home later on you make dinner, which you eat together while watching whatever you've decided on that day. by the time you both go to bed you're well fed and well loved. you fill any free time with whatever. sometimes you both just exist within the same space, not talking or interacting, just existing together. it makes things a lot more peaceful, allows you both time to think over your days before the inevitable chatter before bed and/or during dinner.

on saturdays, you go on dates. you take turns picking where, and neither of you ever complain. you frequent the aquarium often; mizu's idea most of the time. you go to museums, parks, the beach, dinner, etc etc. and every time you do, your face hurts by the end of the night from smiling.

the vases in the house are always full of fresh flowers. this is mainly because mizu works right next to a florists, and she always thinks of you when she sees a new arrangement or a new flower.

the day you get engaged seems like a normal saturday. you go to the aquarium, because of course, and then she takes you to the park; where you've set up a picnic by the lake. mizu had been planning to propose at the aquarium, but you'd then told her about the picnic and she decided to wait, just because you seemed so excited about it.

she proposed first. and was very blunt with it. she's a woman of few words, she doesn't enjoy emotional speeches or anything like that. she just distracted you with swans before getting on one knee with a very simple, "will you marry me?" and immediately you burst into both tears and laughter, before producing the ring you'd brought with you, and you spent the rest of the evening with your hands intertwined, rings clinking quietly every time they touch as you both stare at them glittering. you laugh a lot that night.